


The Long Journey Home

by Cassiduh



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Males, Alpha Stiles, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, BAMF Stiles, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Character Death, Chris Argent - Freeform, Daddy Kink, Hate, Helpful Peter, Hurt Stiles, Lonely Peter, M/M, Mountain Ash, Multi, Oblivious Derek, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Original Character Death(s), Other Pack, Other Pack(s), Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Peter Feels, Revenge, Sassy Peter, Sheriff Stilinski Dies, Stiles Can Shoot, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles Leaves the Pack, Stilinski Family Feels, Violence, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, Wolfsbane, Wolfsbane as Weapon, creeper wolf, helpful chris argent, pack war, sensitive peter, sour wolf, stiles is prepared, zombie wolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-26 22:52:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 23,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassiduh/pseuds/Cassiduh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you sacrifice the good of one for the good of the pack? Derek decides the sacrifice is necessary but Stiles is out for blood with or without the pack. Nobody expected Stiles to take it so far, or for him to shun the pack for their lack of action. Underestimated one too many times Stiles decides it's best to take matters in his own hands now that he has nothing to lose and is determined to succeed. EDITED AND UPDATED.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Decision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vafrous_Vee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vafrous_Vee/gifts).



Stiles would never be sure why his father was the one to answer the call. Some poor bastard was attacked by an animal, after having had the misfortune of having their car breakdown at the edge of the woods in the middle of the night. Maybe he had been closest to the scene at the time, or as Stiles liked to think he was just that damn lucky. The Sheriff wasn't even supposed to be on duty that night. It was a full moon and ever since werewolves had been proven to be rather vicious on their best days but particularly so on that one night, every month Stiles had made sure his father was home until way after the sun had risen in the sky, signaling a new day.

A ringing startled Stiles out of sleep, and without bothering to check the caller ID he answered with a groggy, “Hullo.”.

The last person he expected to hear was the hesitant voice of Mrs. McCall, “Stiles, you need to come down to the hospital honey.”.

Bolting upright in his bed, panic overwhelmed the want to sleep. “Why? What happened? Is it Scott?” Stiles scrambled to pull on both a pair of pants and a shirt which may or may not have been clean, waiting for some sort of explanation for his three o'clock wake up call.

“No, no it's not Scott. Stiles it's your dad, he was attacked. The doctors are doing their best, but he's in really bad shape.” His phone fell to the floor with a thunk as Stiles ran out of his room skidding to a halt at the sight of his father's empty room. 

“No, no, no.” His dad had been asleep before Stiles had gone to bed. He had been safe. All but falling down the stairs in his hurry Stiles snatched his keys from the table before shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers leaving the front door wide open as his jeep pulled out of the driveway.

Stiles couldn't remember how he had gotten to the hospital, or where he had left his jeep, though he knew he didn't have the keys with him as he burst through the emergency room doors.

Without bothering to slow his pace Stiles rushed past Scott's mom, just barely able to understand the room number she yelled to him over the pounding of his own heart. Stiles briefly thought to give thanks to Coach Finstock for making him run all those suicides, as he ran full tilt up stairs and through hallways, stopping short at the sight waiting for him just outside the room his father was in.

Derek Hale and Chris Argent stood toe-to-toe, each with a snarl on their face, confirming what Stiles had already suspected. This was no animal attack, it was werewolves. After a moment both men turned towards the panic stricken boy, and while Derek's expression remained as unreadable as ever, Chris Argent's expression fell causing Stiles heart to lurch with dread.

It wasn't until he tried to rush past them into the room that Stiles noticed the two men weren't alone. The pack, including Scott, stood behind Derek; while a handful of armed hunters, including Allison, stood behind Mr. Argent. Strong arms wrapped around him, stopping him from reaching the door. Fighting against the hold as best as he could, Stiles could feel fresh tears running down his face at the realization that crashed down on him. Nobody wanted him to see his dad because he wasn't just injured, he was dead.

A soft voice was calling his name and he could feel a pair of hands cradling his face. Opening his eyes, that he hadn't remembered closing, Stiles came face-to-face with Lydia whose lips were moving, but his brain refused to believe what she was telling him. “It was an Alpha, Stiles. Another pack has been sniffing around, but we thought they were just passing through. We tried to keep a close eye on them, we really did. As soon as Derek found your dad he brought him straight here, but there was too much damage.” Shaking his head, Stiles didn't want to hear any more, but with sad eyes Lydia continued regardless. “His body couldn't take it and his heart gave out. The doctors said he kept asking them to tell you how sorry he was he didn't stay home tonight, like he promised.”

Stiles let out a choked sob and stopped fighting the hold of who he now knew to be Jackson. Once it seemed as though Stiles wasn't going to go for the room again, Jackson let go before stepping away slowly. Pulling his face roughly from her grasp Stiles went to move past her, when Lydia's hand darted out to grab his wrist. As he turned to her snarling, surprise could be seen in her eyes. “Don't fucking touch me!”

Everybody was shocked, they had all assumed Lydia - the girl he swore to have been in love with since third grade - would have been able to get through to him. Nobody expected him to lash out at her. 

Cry in her arms, yes. But not telling her to back off with a look that said the next person to try to stop him would regret it, werewolf or not. Surprisingly it was Allison's dad who backed him up with a pistol - no doubt filled with wolfsbane bullets - at his side. “The boy has a right to see his father one last time, to be able to say goodbye. I won't let you take that away from him, so I suggest you all just let him through.” Stiles looked up at the older man and gave a nod of appreciation before opening the door to the room, this time unhindered for which he was thankful.

Closing the door quietly behind him, Stiles flinched at the thought that there was no reason to be quiet, his dad wouldn't be waking up ever again. The white sheet was splotched red and brown where blood had been able to soak through and dry, and while Stiles moved closer, prepared to remove the barrier between him and what was left of his father; he knew he didn't want to see the broken body of the only family he had left. No, he didn't want, to but he needed to. He would face the consequences of his actions. All of his lies had led to this. He thought he was protecting his dad, keeping him safe by keeping the secrets that weren't his to share.

Trembling hands pulled back the sheet, unaware and uncaring as to the events taking place just outside the door. Chris Argent knew that none of the wolves standing before him were directly responsible for their friend's loss, but he refused to ignore the carelessness in the situation. “You should have come to me as soon as you discovered not just other wolves, but an Alpha trespassing on your territory.” Derek's eyes flashed to red as he released a rumbling growl at the older man who seemed completely unfazed by the action, though the other hunters trained their weapons without hesitation, causing growls of warning to erupt from the betas.

 

Derek ignored the guilt tangling up with all his anger and self loathing, “If I had known his pack was larger than the four wolves with him I would have, but it had seemed unnecessary to involve hunters.” 

Sneering with obvious hatred, Mr. Argent's response struck a chord with everyone. “And your decision cost not just one, but two human lives tonight, their blood is on your hands.” Whimpers of distress rang through the pack in response. A member of their pack was hurting, and if he was honest with himself, Derek had no idea how to provide comfort; not when, as an Alpha, he had failed to keep them all safe.

Having delivered their message loud and clear, the hunters left. Derek knew what was to come next, and he also knew he would have to deny the boy his pleas for revenge, for the good of the pack. It surprised him how steady both Stiles breathing and heart rate were, especially when he had been on the verge of a panic attack when he had first arrived. Ignoring curious looks from his pack, Derek entered the room of the once great Sheriff Stilinski.

Blood was smeared across his face and hands, as Stiles knelt by his fathers side praying for forgiveness. “Forgive me. Please forgive me for failing you as a son. I really did want you to be proud of me, but I know you wouldn't approve of what I'm going to do. Whoever did this to you will pay, and it will bring me peace knowing not another person will suffer at their hands. But they will suffer at mine.” His words were spoken so softly had Derek not already been in the room listening he wouldn't have heard it. Kissing his fathers hand a final time, Stiles rose to his full height before walking right past the Alpha and out the door, ignoring those who were calling after him.

Erica was the first to stop her Alpha, managing to look both angry and lost. “What does he need us to do Alpha? He smells of sorrow and need, so tell us what it is and we will do it. We will give our pack what it needs.” 

Derek looked down at the girl, expression softening, he understood the want to fix the hurt of one of your pack. If the death had been natural causes, then the pack would have come together to comfort the one in need, refusing to let them be alone in their grief. When one is lost in a way such as this, the Alpha and the pack member who suffered the loss, would challenge not only the Wolf who had committed the crime but also their Alpha.

“We cannot give him what he wants Erica. We cannot give him revenge.” If Stiles had been a wolf, or if the offending pack had been smaller, he would have gladly walked into battle with him. 

Instead he had to think of the needs of the pack as a whole. So he sacrificed the need of one with the notion he would be able to better protect his pack.


	2. Let the Grief Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every wolf could feel it as they hovered outside the house, unsure if they were welcome but unable and unwilling to leave their packmate alone in the roiling cloud of sadness so strong they had first felt it when turning onto the street. Yet the house was silent. There were no choking sobs or movement of any kind. All there was, was a steady heartbeat as proof that Stiles was inside.

Stiles had gotten home, somehow, though he wasn't quite sure how he had managed to find his jeep - let alone drive it - and yet there he, was standing in the only home he had ever known. The home that held the memory of not only one, but two lost parents now. He could feel the grittiness of the blood long - since dried on his fingers - but he didn't bother washing it away. Instead, with bleary eyes, he went straight to his room; pulling the bag of Mountain Ash that Deaton had given him from his closet. There was no doubt in his mind that Derek and his pack would show up, sooner or later, in some misguided attempt to comfort him. Stiles didn't want their fucking comfort, he didn't need it. What he needed was to get ready.

At seventeen he technically wasn't a legal adult, but - ever prepared - he had copies of any and all paperwork needed, along with phone numbers to attorneys who specialized in cases where there are no living relatives, but the child is allowed legal emancipation. As much as he had hoped to never lose his father, Stiles knew the dangers that came with being Sheriff, even in a town like Beacon Hills; so he made sure that his dad's life insurance policy was substantial. It didn't take long to line the doors and windows, and part of him didn't want to shut them out but a larger part was raging that they had kept secrets from him. They hadn't trusted him enough and now he had no one, he was no one.

There was a newly opened bottle of Jack in the kitchen, and any other day Stiles would have been equal parts disappointed and frustrated that his father was drinking so much. Not today though, today Stiles gave thanks that he had something to take the edge off, if even for a little while. Taking a gulp straight out of the bottle Stiles barely felt the burn, distracted by the knocking he could hear coming from upstairs. No doubt it was Scott at his bedroom window, and while that should have made him glad that his friend cared enough to check on him, all he felt was anger.

Slamming the bottle down onto the kitchen table, Stiles threw open the door to the hallway closet, punching in the code to the gun safe without hesitation; hauling out the double barrel shotgun and box of shells full of wolfsbane that he had made himself. He knew Scott wasn't alone out there, he wasn't sure how he knew but he could feel it. 

What most of them didn't know was Stiles was an ace with a gun, especially a shotgun. Skeet shooting had been one of his favorite father-son activities, and he was good at it. He hadn't cared for hunting. Killing anything really wasn't something he had ever enjoyed. In that moment though, with his shotgun in hand, with the knowledge that none of them except Scott would think he was capable of actually hitting his target - let alone the aconite he had stuffed into the shells - Stiles knew he could easily kill Derek. One well placed shot to the chest and there would be one less Alpha in the world.

\--

Every wolf could feel it as they hovered outside the house, unsure if they were welcome, but unable and unwilling to leave their pack mate alone in the roiling cloud of sadness so strong, they had first felt it when turning onto the street. Yet the house was silent. There were no choking sobs or movement of any kind. 

All there was, was a steady heartbeat as proof that Stiles was inside. As Scott went around the house to the bedroom window, the rest of the wolves waited, listening carefully from the front yard. Derek felt uneasy, something was wrong he just didn't know what, and it was making his hackles rise. 

Jackson's quiet voice broke Derek from his thoughts, "It's too quiet Derek. Stilinski is in there, even when he's trying to be sneaky he's not quiet. Something's wrong." Jackson was right, Stiles should be hysterical. 

His focus snapped to Scott with a glare as he made his way back towards them, anxiety seeping off of him. "There's Mountain Ash blocking his window. I can't get in." 

Placing what he hoped was a comforting hand on Scott's shoulder, Derek managed to make it exactly one step closer to the house, before the front door slammed open revealing Stiles aiming a shotgun at his chest.

Derek had never seen the boy look menacing before, and it made him stop short at the look in Stiles eyes, his father's blood still smudged along his face. Like he was daring Derek to make another move, daring him to give him a reason to shoot. 

"I suggest you and your pack of mangy fucking mutts get the hell off my property." Derek knew his eyes were flaring red when he heard the choked out whimper from Isaac, who despite all his posturing, was still the most sensitive member of the pack. 

"I know you're angry Stiles, but you can't speak to your Alpha like that. Now break the line and put that goddamn gun down before you hurt yourself." He was so sure Stiles would just give in, that even in his anger he just needed a push for the dam to break, for his grieving to start. 

He would have never guessed Stiles aim would just lower slightly instead, managing to squeeze the trigger with a practiced grace, before Derek could make a move to avoid getting hit.

The pain hit Derek first as he fell back against the slightly damp grass grasping at his thigh in disbelief. The smell hit him second, and he let loose an enraged howl at the familiar scent of wolfsbane. 

"You don't get to tell me what to do anymore Derek. You're not my Alpha." There were quiet gasps all around, because there were no blips, no stutters, just the steady beat of the truth. "None of you trusted me enough to tell me what was going on. I didn't matter because you didn't need my help. Your incompetence cost me EVERYTHING! He was the only family I had left and he's gone now."

 

"Stiles please, we didn't think it was important. We didn't want to worry you over nothing." With a snort of indignation Stiles turned his attention to Scott, but there was no affection in his gaze only a cold recognition. 

"Oh please. Spare me your half-assed excuses Scott. We all know I was always the odd man out. You all look down your noses at me, and for what? Being human. At least I'm not a fucking affront to nature." Scott visibly flinched at that. From the beginning Stiles had always insisted, regardless of the circumstance, that the bite was a gift not something to be resented, but embraced. Staring down at Derek with such hatred and disgust that it made Derek's heart clench with regret, Stiles pulled a shell from his pocket tossing it at the older man. “This is the last time I help you.” 

Surprising everybody, Jackson rushed up the porch steps, stopping only when the ash line refused to let him go any further. Ignoring the shotgun pointed unwaveringly at his chest, Jackson stood as close as he could get, as he let out a high pleading whine. “Don't do this Stiles. Please, I'll do whatever you want. You want the wolf who did this? I'll help you! I'll make them suffer. I know how to make it hurt, being the kanima taught me that much.”

 

Derek knew Jackson had a soft spot for Stiles, especially after he learned how he had tried to keep him from hurting people as a his lizard counterpart. More so when he heard how Stiles was the only reason Lydia made it in time to save him. After Jackson was just a werewolf, and no longer the kanima, the only person who didn't shy away from him was Stiles. Jackson was still an asshole, but everybody was so used to it by now that they rarely took offense to anything that came out of his mouth. 

Everybody was shocked at the sincerity of his words, and Derek could see a sort of softening in Stiles eyes at the plea. “Jackson we both know you wouldn't leave your pack, or Lydia. That you won't disobey your Alpha. And as much as you deny it, I know how much you never want to hurt anyone, not if you can help it.” 

A sob escaped the blue-eyed wolf as he dropped to his knees looking up at Stiles, “I would. I would do it if you asked me to. If it was what you needed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright vote for it. Should Stiles accept Jackson's help or turn him down?


	3. they aren't my pack, you are.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever and a day since I've posted anything and I can only say I am sorry but I had some really tough real life things happening that are in fact still going on but I managed to get at least a little bit of inspiration. So without further ado I give you the next chapter. Please comment your thoughts as my vision of the story has changed a bit and I am curious what all you readers think.

"All I need is a name, Jackson. Just give me the name, that's all the help I need." Stiles knew how difficult even answering just that one question would be for Jackson, but it would give him a little information, and it would allow Jackson to feel like he had done his part. 

Derek was regaining his footing with the help of Boyd and Isaac, the sting of the wolfsbane making him grit his teeth, "Jackson don't!" The words of his alpha echoed through the beta's head, rattling around with the intent of stopping Jackson from answering. 

It was a wholly unpleasant feeling disobeying one's alpha - not impossible - but you have to really mean it in order to push back the rolling waves of authority. With a full body shiver and a creased brow, he looked up at Stiles with sad eyes, only managing to whisper one word, "Burnland." 

Stiles let out a breath before closing the door without another word, effectively shutting out the people he had once thought could become his family. A roar of anger and sorrow shook through the house, followed by howls so hollow with loss, they ached like an empty pit to those who heard.

Lydia ran to gather up a now sobbing Jackson, while Derek stood between two of his betas looking disbelievingly at the Stilinski house. Passing by the older man, sneering in a way that bared her teeth in the form of the true she-wolf that she could never be, Lydia voiced exactly what she had been thinking since they had left the hospital. "You just created an enemy NONE of us are capable of handling." 

Shock colored his face as he shook his head in protest. "No, no he just needs time. You'll see, everybody just go home. Get some sleep and meet back here at noon." 

Scoffing Lydia continued on her way towards Jackson's porsche, amazed at how little Derek seemed to know the boy who had just lost his last remaining family.

 

\--

 

Firing off a text to Mr. Argent containing a formal request for aid, while simultaneously asking that he not inform his daughter; because as much as he knew she sympathized with him, Stiles knew she would immediately tell Scott, and he needed to keep the Hale pack in the dark as long as possible to prevent any further attempts at interference. He gathered together all his pre-prepared paperwork, quickly filling in the empty date and signatures while waiting for the final wolf of Beacon Hills to make his no doubt dramatic entrance. In fact he was only marginally surprised Peter hadn't been with the Hale pack posturing in front of the hunters at the hospital, but then again he wasn't treated like a member of the pack. 

There was no doubt he had heard the howls and the creeper that he was, wouldn't have been able to ignore it, he'd have to investigate. After all he dealt in information, it was his currency of choice, and the only way he managed to keep his life. While he waited, Stiles gathered the various weapons he had begun hiding around the house; ranging from throwing knives to cattle prods placing everything on the kitchen table.

\--

 

Meanwhile outside, Peter Hale looked towards the Stilinski house; and immediately upon arrival had a flashback to the time he was stuck inside his own head reliving the fire every second of every day. He imagines that Stiles feels much the same, vulnerable and like a failure - unable to protect his own family. With a shudder and flair of guilt, Peter cautiously moved forward, more than a little concerned with just how badly his nephew had screwed up. 

Slinking through the shadows, Peter thought back on all the times Stiles had - in a similar way to Jackson - treated him like normal, instead of ignoring his existence as most of the pack had taken to doing. He made his way around the house to the back door, which just as no doubt every other point of entry was, was lined with Mountain Ash, though he was no average wolf. 

No, he could work certain forms of magic; as was proven when he used the Martin girl to bring himself back from the dead. He was more than capable of passing over a line of Mountain ash, though he did not have the spark in him to break it. Of course this little tidbit of information wasn't something that he shared with the rest of the newly formed Hale pack, it wasn't as if he was really a part of it anyway, so why should he. Opening the unlocked back door, Peter slipped silently inside, attention immediately drawn to the arsenal covering the dining room table. Taking a cautious sniff to confirm what he already knew - everything was laced with wolfsbane of multiple varieties, and many of the handles were made of Rowan Oak.

"Come on up creeperwolf. It's not nice to snoop." Surprised that the boy knew he was in the house, though he really shouldn't have been, Peter's head snapped up at the soft even tone coming from one of the upstairs rooms. Casting another passing glance at the weapons, he made his way towards the boy who had just lost his father. 

As he expected Stiles wasn't in his room, but sitting on his father's bed, clenching one of his uniform shirts in his hands as he stared unseeingly at the wall in front of him. Standing in the doorway to the late Sheriff Stilinski's room, Peter felt a pang of regret that he hadn't told Stiles about the wolves.

The boys gaze snapped to the older man and honeyed brown met blue and - as if he could read his thoughts in his eyes - Stiles said, "I don't blame you Peter. It wasn't your place to tell me, and even if you had I bet the others would have pushed you even further to the outskirts of the pack. And you cannot be an Omega, I understand." A humorless smile broke across the boy’s face, as he let out a hollow laugh, Stiles proved to the older wolf once again just how clever he was by saying, " And I totally knew you could go through Mountain Ash, you've been holding out on your pack there zombie wolf." 

Blinking in surprise before breaking eye contact with the young Stilinski, first Peter was relieved that he wasn't subject to Stiles' wrath as was the Hale pack, but he felt the need to correct the boy on one thing. "They aren't my pack Stiles, you are."

As if on cue the doorbell echoed through what was once the Stilinski family home. Disappearing back down the stairs, but not before seeing just a moment of shock flashing across the boys face. Immediately followed by a slight furrow of his brow as the wheels in his glorious mind started processing that little confession; Peter called back to Stiles over his shoulder in his usual smug tone, "I'll just go let Mr. Argent in now shall I?"


	4. But I'm the Alpha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am doing my best to work on this story and I am grateful to everybody who commented and said they understood my hiatus, as a little explanation I've been in and out of the hospital and am in a lot of pain 24/7 so it's been a tough year. But I am going to get back into my writing because it made me so happy to put out stories like this one that people enjoy reading. I love all your comments and it makes my day to read them and know that people are actually reading this. I know it's slow build as far as sexy stuff goes but it's coming up on the graphic violence and language so it will indeed need a explicit rating I just need to build the story in order for it to make sense. Thanks once again to everyone who has stuck with this story I appreciate it more than you know.

Noon rolled around both quick as lightning and slow as molasses for the Beacon Hills Alpha. Derek assumed the same was true for the rest of his pack. Eyebrows pinched together in concern, Derek stood exactly where he had the night before; his hand automatically going down to rub away the phantom pain in his thigh from the shot of wolfsbane Stiles had somehow managed to hit him with. Waiting for the rest of his pack to arrive as he had instructed them to just a few hours before, Derek stared at the house before him, feeling a sad sort of kinship with the only remaining Stilinski. Scott unsurprisingly was the first to join his Alpha at twelve noon on the dot, though much to Derek's chagrin he brought along the Argent girl with him. Lydia and Jackson were the next to arrive followed closely by Erica, Isaac, and Boyd. 

 

As soon as everyone settled, looking towards their Alpha for direction, Derek took a deep breath and inwardly cringed at the scent of Mountain Ash mixed with a variety of different types of wolfsbane. Even more unpleasant though was the overpowering scent of Stiles' rage and sorrow that seemed to seep out of the house, and into the air surrounding it. 

Pulling out his phone the Alpha dialed the young Stilinski, holding his phone to his ear expectantly, listening as it rang through to voicemail. Hanging up without bothering to leave a message Derek's frown deepened. He could hear a strong steady heartbeat inside the house, but it seems the boy didn't feel like taking his Alpha's call. 

Well that was fine as far as Derek was concerned, because the boy would be seeing him and the rest of his pack in, just long enough for them to break one of the Mountain Ash lines keeping all the wolves out. "Allison, Lydia, go see if you can break one of those Mountain Ash lines." Lydia huffed but did as she was told giving, Jackson's hand a squeeze before heading around towards the back of the house, as Allison walked up the driveway passing by the infamous blue Jeep on her way to the front door. 

Scott ran after his girlfriend after a moment keys jangling in his hand. Derek rolled his eyes, of course Scott had keys to Stiles' house. He watched the young huntress walk through the front door and waited impatiently to be able to get to his grieving pack mate. When she pulled open the door all the way Derek took a step forward but stopped when she shook her head, as Lydia appeared next to her. "We can't break the lines, we can just pass over them." 

Growling low in his throat Derek barked out in annoyance, "Go get Stiles to break them then." 

Confusion crossed both girls faces sharing a glance as Lydia called out, "He's not here Derek. There's no one in the house." 

All the wolves attention snapped to her with furrowed brows, while Scott who was still on the front porch said, "But we can hear a heartbeat, and his car is still here. You know he'd never leave her behind." Scott was already dialing Deaton. All the wolves and even the huntress and the banshee uncomfortable with the different scenarios running through their heads, each different but just as terrifying as the next. "Deaton, we need your help. Stiles lined the house with Mountain Ash, and neither Lydia or Allison can break a line so we can get in." 

Derek let out a vicious snarl snatching the phone from his beta's grip, while every other wolf released a low growl at whatever the vet replied with. "No, you will come down here and break the fucking line so that I can find Stiles before he does something that gets him killed! NOW!"   
With red eyes and fangs on full display Derek tossed the phone back to Scott, pacing restlessly along the front of the house in frustration, growing with each step. Sounding more wolf than man Derek growled out to the two girls in the house, "Bring me his computer, and find his phone, it was ringing from inside!" 

Muttering something that he purposefully ignored, Derek watched Lydia roll her eyes as she went back up the stairs towards Stiles room, as Allison simply nodded looking around the downstairs. Finding nothing but empty weapon holsters placed strategically all around the downstairs. She was shocked to be honest, there were more weapons’ holsters hidden in the downstairs alone than in her entire house, which was impressive to say the least. 

 

Every exhale ended in a soft growl from the Alpha as he prowled along the length of the porch, waiting impatiently for the computer and phone, as well as the arrival of the emissary en route. Lydia came traipsing back down the stairs mask of indifference perfectly in place, though every wolf could smell just how upset she really was. Arms full with Stiles' things she crossed over the line covering the front door onto the porch as she said, "He had one of those soothing noise machines running in his room, that's where you were getting the heartbeat." 

 

Allison followed Lydia out onto the porch where everybody had gathered, immediately going to Scott's side, sad to see the heartbroken look on his face; and as much as she didn't want to make him feel any worse, they all needed to know just how far out of the loop even Stiles' best friend was. "Scott sweetheart, do you know how many weapons Stiles had in the house?" 

Derek's attention, which had been focused on trying to unlock either the phone or computer they had, instantly moved to Scott waiting for the answer with a confused crease to his brow that much matched Scott's. 

"Alli, why are you asking that? I mean of course there are guns here but they are the Sheriff's, except for one of the shotguns. Stiles got that for his fourteenth birthday." Rubbing a hand down his arm soothingly Allison just softly repeated the question telling Scott it was important. "Um. There's two handguns - one of them a service piece, two shotguns - one of which is Stiles’ in the safe in the downstairs closet - and his baseball bat. But that's it, why?" 

Most of the pack looked interested in her answer, so with a sigh she felt terrible that every single one of them had been too busy to see the changes happening in Stiles, signs of which are all the more clear now that she's looking back on the last few months. Paranoia involving any of the pack or their families getting hurt because they weren't prepared, insistence on using the buddy system even when there were no apparent threats. "I found hidden weapons’ holsters of various kinds all along the downstairs. Knives, guns, cartridges of extra ammo, even weird ones like for an axe. There are more empty holsters for hidden weapons in his downstairs than there are in my entire house."

 

Scott along with everyone else was shocked by this. Stiles used his words, or in dangerous occasions his trusty bat. The closing of a car door startled everyone out of the shock Allison's last statement caused, and it also announced the much anticipated arrival of Dr. Deaton. Derek let out a displeased rumble at the way the emissary was moving at a relaxed and easy pace, face perfectly neutral which was mimicked by the wolves in his pack showing their agreement in the displeasure of their Alpha. "Break the fucking line. Now! We have to find him."

Deaton held the Alpha's gaze unflinchingly, breaking the line barring the wolves from entering through the Stilinski's front door as he said, "You know where he is heading already Alpha Hale. And you know that boy is too smart to leave something behind to be used unless he did it on purpose." 

Ignoring the emissary Derek passed the phone and computer back to Lydia before entering Stiles' home quickly scenting the air, looking closely at everything trying to find something to tell him Stiles hadn't truly gone after the wolf who killed his father.

All he could smell was Stiles' rage and sadness mixed with a variety of strains of wolfsbane which tickled his nose, and covered any other scents that might have been there as a hint. "All his clothes are still here, nothing is out of place really." Scott called down from up in Stiles' bedroom. 

Derek couldn't believe Stiles would actually do this to his pack, to disobey the Alpha is tantamount to treason. It insulted Derek, undermined his authority, and set a precedent for the others to possibly follow. No, they had to get Stiles back and fast before he ruined the Beacon Hills Pack's reputation and probably dying in the process.

Derek understood loss. He lost almost all of his family to fire, but he didn't go on some half baked crusade for revenge. His next thought hit him like a punch to the gut and he hoped to whatever god would listen that what he thought wasn't true, that he was just AWOL as he usually is. 

Though he usually would've shown his face at least once by now with all the chaos. With a slight tremor of fear in his voice that he pretended wasn't there, Derek called out in question to everyone, "Has anyone seen Peter?"


	5. make them pay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's alright little one, we'll make them pay. All of them. You didn't fail. If anyone failed it was Derek and his pack of misfit toys. They failed you, and don't you worry we'll make them pay too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to everyone who commented saying they understood and wished me better health, I appreciate it very much and it makes it more important for me to post new chapters for you. I know that most everybody HATES Derek right now which is kinda the point. I've also had questions about the Stiles/Jackson tag and for the most part it is just an epic bromance happening but I will probably throw in a little romancey type situation. The whole Sterek vs. Steter end game is just a mystery for now so suck it up.

Stiles wasn't too proud to admit he never in a million years, would have thought that Peter Hale would have basically called him his pack, as well as insinuate that he was also his Alpha. He knew that Peter hadn't really thought of Derek as his Alpha, and that the rest of the Beacon Hills Pack avoided the eldest wolf like the plague. But for him to think of Stiles as an equal, let alone a superior was tantamount to insanity in Stiles' mind; then again this was Peter freaking Hale he was considering so insanity kind of came with the package. He continued to think about just how sincere Peter may or may not be as he made his way down the stairs of his childhood home, to talk to the werewolf hunter currently standing in his kitchen eyeballing the weapons strewn across the tabletop. "Thank you for coming Mr. Argent. I do appreciate your assistance and discretion in this matter."

 

Peter stood leaning against the countertop arms crossed, glare firmly in place. To anyone else he would look menacing, but Stiles could see the way Peter had strategically placed himself so that both doorways were in view. The wary look in his eyes as he watched the brother of the woman who set his entire family and himself ablaze stand in the same room as someone he considered pack, as well as feeling unsure as to whether or not the hunter could be trusted. If he followed The Code, or if he would just kill them both and be done with the aggravation. 

Stiles made a point to run his hand along one of Peter's arms from shoulder to wrist as he moved past the wolf to sit at the table trusting the beta to watch his back before locking eyes with Chris Argent, the patriarch to the Argent name. "I am sorry for your loss. It never should have happened, your father was a good man." 

Stiles let out a derisive snort before gesturing for the man to sit with him. "Bad things happen to good people all the time Mr. Argent. The world doesn't care that he was a good man, and now I've gotten to the point where I don't care if the wolves involved are good or bad either. I just want my vengeance." The hunter simply nodded, only somewhat surprised at how collected the teenager was in the wake of the death of his father.

He let a hand touch one of the many weapons littering the table as he spoke, "I admit I am impressed with your collection here. I wasn't expecting you to have quite this selection. What is it that you need from me?"

"I need an untraceable car, two fake ID's, any information you have on the Burnland Pack and their Alpha; access to a safe house in the Northern Texas/Southern New Mexico area, two burner phones, and a computer with some serious firewalls." 

Now those weren't the requests he had expected as was expressed by the raised brow the younger man received in response. "You really shouldn't underestimate him, Argent. If he put his mind to it he could end us all and get away with it." 

Stiles barked out a laugh turning his gaze to Peter eyes shining with the mirth that had been absent from his gaze since his father's death. "You would know, huh, Peter. I see, it's just my potential that has you here." 

The boy's response unnerved the hunter at the same time it piqued his curiosity, "Why are you here, Hale? I would think you'd be with your nephew the Alpha, and the rest of your pack." 

Eyes a supernatural blue, fangs shining menacingly in the light, Peter snarled grabbing the back of Stiles chair with claw tipped fingers causing Chris to twitch towards the gun at the small of his back, hidden under his jacket. He watched as the teenager kept eye contact while he tilted his head to the side completely baring his neck to the wolf, allowing him to rub his face along the delicate skin there, transferring scent while also establishing a level of trust that was similar of that of Alpha and Beta. "Don't insult me by thinking that those morons are my pack, my Alpha. My pack is here, and you've been incredibly rude to my Alpha."

 

Confused, Chris had assumed that Peter would be holding the position of Alpha between the two, once again it would seem he had underestimated the young Stilinski, dropping his eyes Chris tried to correct his mistake. "My apologies Mr. Stilinski, I was unaware." 

All he received was a hum in response neither accepting nor declining the apology. "Can you get me what I asked for or not? I'm on a tight schedule." 

Seeing the boy like this, completely in control of the situation, giving no room to those he's asking assistance from to take advantage, it was a rather impressive sight, that once again made Chris think just how great Stiles would have been as a hunter. It was too late for such things now, but Chris could also admit the boy would make an excellent Alpha. "Give me an hour, I can get you everything you need, though I would suggest ditching the car, in case Allison checks my stash once they've noticed you're gone."

Eying him carefully Stiles stood giving a simple, "Good" as response before turning to the blue eyed wolf who immediately bore his neck in submission to his chosen Alpha. Just as Peter had done to him, Stiles rubbed his cheek against the skin of Peter's neck marking him as pack.

The young man exited the room without looking back leaving the hunter and wolf alone in the kitchen. "I wouldn't suggest double-crossing him Argent. He's not exactly in a forgiving mood, and I wouldn't feel the least bit of remorse taking down another Argent if he so much as hinted it would make him happy." All Chris did was nod before leaving out the back door, secure in the knowledge that the eldest Hale was telling the truth when he said that if it even seemed like it would please his Alpha he would be dead. It was a simple fact to the wolf. 

After the eldest Argent was far enough away that Peter could no longer hear him, he went upstairs to find his Alpha. It was easy enough to locate him with his enhanced hearing and smell, but his heart ached at the sight of him curled up on his father's bed holding the same uniform shirt as before. 

The only difference this time was the heart wrenching sobs escaping the boy despite his attempts to keep them inside. Whining low in his throat, Peter gathered up the younger man into his arms laying back down onto the bed, curling his body around him in a protective shield. 

He remembered this feeling, he spent years alone grieving his family and he would never subject anyone to suffering that alone. Even he wasn't that cruel. "It's alright little one, we will make them pay. All of them." 

Stiles just gripped the wolf tighter to himself as if reassuring himself that he wasn't alone. "He was my only family, and I couldn't protect him. You shouldn't want me as an Alpha, I'm just going to fail you too." 

Peter let out a small but ferocious roar that startled Stiles out of his spiral of self blame looking up at Peter with bleary brown eyes that looked so broken that it made Peter shake with a fury so intense, it reminded him of the time he spent as the Alpha. "You didn't fail. If anyone failed it was Derek and his pack of misfit toys. They failed you, and don't you worry we'll make them pay too." Peter felt a sick sort of satisfaction, as he watched the boy in his arms dry his eyes, as a look of furious determination took the place of the lost expression that was in it's place just moments before. Oh yes, this was the Stiles that Peter saw the potential of even through the haze of his Alpha insanity. 

It really is too bad the boy didn't accept the bite when it was offered by him. Though Peter supposed it wasn't too late for the boy to become an Alpha in every sense of the word. It really wouldn't be that hard to do, and then his nephew could pay for all his mistakes. From the Argent bitch to he death of Stiles' father. And the best part about it was that he wouldn't have to do the dirty work himself. All he'd have to do really is hang on for the ride.


	6. exceeding expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter may find his expectations of Stiles once again exceeded, and Stiles may find that Peter is offering more than just a helping hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been feeling really sick lately so I'm not sure when I will be able to post the next chapter, I am hoping soon. I am also trying to work on my other fics including wicked games so it just may not be this story that gets updated next. leave me a comment and try out my other stories.

The Burnland Pack had been walking the finest of lines when it came to following The Code hunters had set out for all were-creatures to follow, but now they've finally stepped over. Yet all the eldest remaining Argent did was pass along his file of information, along with the other items the teenager had asked for, to a seventeen year old boy and the wolf who killed his sister. 

Chris understood the boy's rage, his need to go after those responsible for his father's death. The hunter had an honest respect for Stiles, in many ways he had adjusted to the knowledge of werewolves and other such supernatural creatures better than Allison had.

He really would have made an exceptional hunter, though Chris has come to accept that will never happen. Stiles saw the world in too many shades of grey to work in the black and white that The Code required it's enforcers to see in. He also cringed at the thought of the last remaining Stilinski becoming a wolf, because Chris would be lying if he said Stiles didn't have the perfect instincts for pack hierarchy. 

Now here he was, leaving the consequences of a major pack in the hands of a boy the same age as his daughter; and a wolf who'd already been on one vengefully murderous rampage. 

Then again, there was no way he was going to be able to change the boy's mind, so he best keep out of it, and try to keep Allison from getting mixed up in the mess. All he did was pass along what was asked of him and go back the way he came, no more no less.

 

\--

 

Peter watched Chris retreat, blue eyes unblinking as he saw the hunter get in his car and drive on back to his home with his daughter, arms filled with the items his Alpha had requested of the man who had just left. The wolf had answered the door for the second time that night, for the Argent patriarch to be on the other side, though the second time Peter denied the hunter entry. He refused to allow one of them any closer to his grieving Alpha, who was upstairs asleep for the moment. 

 

The boy had fallen asleep in Peter's arms, listening to the wolf murmur promises of a bloody and satisfying justice, with eyes dry of tears. Walking back up to where Stiles lay sleeping in his father's bed, curled into a protective ball. Peter was hesitant to wake the boy even though he knows both that the boy would want to be woken up, and that they didn't have much time to get everything that needs doing done. With a sad sigh Peter placed his Alpha's requested items on the bedside table before crawling back into bed with Stiles using gentle touches and a soothing voice trying to wake the boy. 

It took a few minutes before he stirred at all, and Peter smirked at the memory of being a teenager. And how sleep always held him tight in her grip during those years. The smirk immediately disappeared at Stiles' sleepy mumble of, "Just five more minutes daddy.".

The sad fact that Stiles' father would never again be the one to wake up his son filled Peter with just a moment of shame, that the thought of the young Stilinski calling him daddy made his cock twitch. 

"No little one, no more minutes. We need to get ready, Chris dropped off what you asked for." Brown eyes fluttered open at that and when those honey brown met a pair of blue decidedly not his father's, Peter saw a flash of disappointment before Stiles' expression closed down, his now blank expression giving nothing away. Brushing his fingers feather light against one of his Alpha's cheekbones, feeling his own disappointment at Stiles shutting him out, which he had no problem voicing, "Don't shut me out, let me be there for you."

He could easily smell the guilt that instantly poured out of the boy in response to Peter's words eyes cast down in shame as he replies, "My feelings will just get in the way. If I let out the hurt it will only hold us back, and I don't want to burden you. You have enough pain of your own. You don't need mine adding to it." 

Peter immediately began to explain what he meant in hopes of ridding the air of the sour scent of self hatred. "No, no, no, little one. Don't look at your feelings as a weakness. They are what gives you strength, especially the pain and sadness. Which is something I'd be honored to share the load of with my pack."

There was a short humorless laugh but at least the scent had changed to a bit of sadness layered with determination, so Peter was going to take it as a win. "So Argent came through then?" 

Peter nodded, motioning to the pile on the nightstand, before he stood up from the bed offering a hand to Stiles to help him up saying, "Yeah, he just dropped it off a few minutes ago. I figured you'd want to get ready to leave as soon as possible." When Stiles gripped the offered hand Peter used his strength to pull the teen into his body, smiling eyes shining with mischief, as he watched the boy blush a beautiful rosy color that made Peter's wolf want to taste at the contact; before clearing his throat and grabbing the items he had wanted. heading out of the room without a backwards glance at his beta. 

Chuckling softly to himself, Peter took just a moment to revel in the reaction he had gotten out of a simple collision of bodies, before following Stiles to his childhood room. Unable to help the soft groan he let out at the sight of the boy bent over digging through his closet, Peter couldn't help but think about the sweet torture it was going to be teaching Stiles close quarters combat; which was an inevitability. Stiles turned around and took notice of the want that Peter hadn't bothered to hide from his expression and flushed all the way down his neck and into his bloodstained shirt, making Peter wonder just how far the color went, while carrying a machine in his hands. 

At the lifted brow he received Stiles simply said, "It's a soothing noise machine. It can mimic the sound of a human heartbeat so when they come looking they'll think I'm still here for a while at least." Both brows lifted at that, Peter was impressed with the boy once again. 

Though he was learning not to have expectations of the young Stilinski because he always surpassed them; and unlike his pathetic excuse of a nephew deserved his loyalty and respect. "Between that and the mountain ash blocking every entrance should keep those nitwits busy chasing their own tails for a good while." Stiles hmmed in response as he sat in his computer chair wiping his computer, leaving it back at factory settings. 

He deleted every piece of information that Derek had ever asked from him, both his copy of the Argent bestiary and his own that he had started. This was after making a copy just for his own use on a memory stick of course. 

For the first time, Peter noticed Stiles looking at his hands a slight furrow of confusion creasing his brow. "I took the liberty of cleaning the blood from your hands and face while you were sleeping, I hope you don't mind." 

After a minute of nothing but silence as Stiles did nothing but continue to look at his hands Peter thought maybe he'd made a mistake in cleaning the boy up until he heard a soft, "Thank you, Peter." So soft that even he had to strain to hear it.

Peter responded with his eyes cast downward and a, "You're welcome, Alpha."; just soft enough for the boy to still be able to hear, and a smile that showed just how pleased he was with himself. Peter took the flash drive, and the other items from Stiles now clean hands allowing his fingers to drag along the boys skin at the same time, watching Stiles' pupils dilate as the soft scent of his arousal started to spread through the room Peter smirked internally at the boost to his ego.

It looked like Stiles liked being referred to as Alpha, or maybe he just enjoyed seeing a more submissive side to Peter. Either way it worked in his favor. Peter followed the seemingly perpetually flushed teen back down the stairs into the kitchen where an arsenal currently was. Stiles made a quick pitstop at the hallway closet grabbing a duffel, along with the guns, ammunition, and a rather large stack of money from the safe. "I see you've been planning ahead."

Stiles turned to look back at Peter eyebrows raised in a mocking way as he continued to fill the duffel with the weapons from the table, simply handing Peter the required paperwork for his legal emancipation signed and sealed. Looking at the papers Peter scoffed in surprise murmuring more to himself than anything, "You really have been planning for something like this.".

Bag packed Stiles gave Peter a sideways glance before zipping up the bag. "Yes, I have been planning for a lot of things. Now how about we blow this popsicle stand." Startling a laugh out of Peter at the straight face and serious tone Stiles managed to use, Peter followed his Alpha out of the house.


	7. fifty?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifty?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!!!

They ended up finding Peter's car parked out at the old Hale house with only one set of footprints headed further into the preserve. His apartment downtown, which he hadn't lied about having was left untouched, nothing out of place but the door that Derek kicked in. There were no scent trails leading anywhere, the footprints into the preserve just ended at a chasm, his phone had been found charging in his stupidly posh apartment. Derek pulled at his hair in aggravation, he knew that Peter was gone he just didn't want to believe what all the signs pointed to. Peter was gone, Stiles was gone. They had left together, and between the two of them there was no way even the pack that remained would be able to outsmart them not even with the genius that was Lydia Martin.

No, both Peter and Stiles were smart in a very different way than Lydia. They were built for strategy and evasive techniques. If they didn't want to be found they wouldn't be. Standing in the middle of the woods, right at the end of Peter's tracks; Derek released a roar full of a misplaced rage towards those in his pack that have deserted their Alpha. Both Scott and Jackson, who had been standing behind Derek, fell to the ground whimpering in fear of their Alpha's anger.  
Looking out at the seemingly endless sea of trees, chest heaving Derek said in frustration, "They're both gone, and you know Peter's going to manipulate Stiles into doing whatever he wants." 

This caused both betas to look at one another in disbelief. This was because they both knew that while yes Peter was a manipulative asshole, that Stiles was even more conniving and stubborn when it came to something he wanted. And what he wanted now was revenge for the death of his father, who better to help him than the man who avenged his family single handedly after six years in a coma. "Derek, would it really be so bad to let him get his vengeance?" 

His head snapped towards Jackson snarl barely restrained behind his lips. "Do you really think he can succeed against a pack of fifty, even with fucking Peter?!" Scott's eyes widened like saucers as he scrambled to his feet, panic evident in his scent as well as a hint of fear, the same as Jackson which would have been surprising a year ago but not so much a shock anymore, that he really did care for Stiles. 

Scott whimpered out a soft, "Fifty?", as Jackson's eyes flashed to their electric blue while he grasped at his hair in a way similar to what Derek had done moments before. As much as Scott and surprisingly Jackson, believed in Stiles' abilities they didn't think he could handle Fifty weres. 

"We have to find them before it's too late. And when we do they're going to have some serious punishments to deal with for disobeying their Alpha." There was no room for mistakes now, not with so much at stake. They would all just have to be better than two omegas no matter how smart, and manage to stop Stiles and Peter before they reached New Mexico. Because the moment they entered Texas the Burnland Pack would have them. 

In a lot of ways the betas didn't agree with their Alpha's decision, but were unsure of what other option they had. All of them had been bitten not born into a pack like Derek and Peter were. Hell, the Argents knew more on traditional pack dynamics than the teens that made up the Beacon Hills Pack. They just knew that they didn't want anything to happen to Stiles, that they wanted to protect him, even if it was from himself. 

Besides their Alpha shouldn't have anything but all of their best interests at heart, because that was what an Alpha did - whatever it took for the good of the pack. Scott wanted nothing more than to console his best friend, and instead he was left behind as Stiles went off gallivanting with Peter Hale of all people. 

Jackson wished he could've been strong enough to go with Stiles and Peter, strong enough to help them do what needs to be done, but he's not and even though he knows Stiles forgives him he feels guilty.

\--

Meanwhile Lydia and Allison were at the Argent home, going through anything that might be of use in finding the now two pack members that have disappeared. Pictures and papers covering the expanse of their impressive dining table, both girls thinking how this was when they would've called Stiles to figure everything out for them; and if he wasn't being involved by decree of the Alpha, they'd be turning to Peter and his answers that were more like riddles, as though he got his entertainment watching them all flounder trying to decipher his meaning. Like he was daring them to do what they were told not to, and ask Stiles what it all meant because surely he'd know. 

Lydia huffed in aggravation as she flipped through the Argent’s records for the Burnland Pack; trying her best not to scream in frustration, before rubbing her fingers along the ink, creasing her brow in thought. "What is it Lyds? Did you find something?", Allison asked.

Green eyes flashed to brown in realization, "Allison these are new records, your family has been keeping track of this pack for years but every piece of paper is new here." 

Lydia watched as her friend figured out what that meant. "That means Dad helped them! We should check the carpool, maybe they have one of our cars."

"They would've ditched the car I gave them by now.", they heard from behind them.

Both girls turned toward the voice in the doorway finding Mr. Argent stood stock still, arms crossed over his chest, watching both teenage girls with a careful expression. "Dad, what else did you give them?", Allison asked warily. 

He replied with a simple, "I gave that boy everything he asked for.", as he turned on his heel and walked back out of the room.


	8. questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do their fingernails grow back immediately?

In the abandoned farmhouse at the edge of the all but nonexistent town of Glenrio, New Mexico; just shy of the Texas border screams could be heard echoing in the mostly empty space. Stiles stood before a man tied to a chair, beaten and bloody; as Peter stood leaning against the wall behind the boy, arms loosely crossed over his chest. Indifferent expression in place, despite the sick sort of satisfaction, and pride he felt in watching his Alpha torture answers out of the captured wolf. It had ended up being surprisingly easy to catch the first wolf, just took Stiles acting as a bit of bait. 

Let any wolf around smell all of that wolfsbane, they are going to assume a hunter is closing in, and when the overly confident wolf went in for the kill there was Peter to beat him to a bloody pulp for daring to touch his Alpha. Now though, Peter was sitting back watching as Stiles took this enemy wolf apart piece by piece.

 

With a pair of brass knuckles soaked in wolfsbane, Stiles doled out a punch every time he didn't get the answer he wanted. "Have you ever killed anyone?" Spit filled with blood hit Stiles’ shoes instead of a verbal answer, causing Stiles to sigh before immediately punching their captive in the nose. A gush of blood followed the crunch signaling a broken nose. "ERN wrong answer, try again." 

"I still think it would be easier to just kill him and be done with it.", Peter drawled.

This earned Peter a glare the likes of which he'd never seen before on Stiles, accompanying the response, "No Peter, only the guilty will pay." 

Unsurprisingly, even when exacting his bloody revenge, there was still a sliver of the Sheriff's little boy in there; holding out hope that death wasn't necessary for every wolf in the Burnland Pack. In a way it surprised Peter that the boy had managed to hold onto even that small piece of himself after losing the last of his family. Then again Stiles had more moral scruples than Peter had to start with.

Flipping open a switchblade, Stiles turned back to the captured wolf dragging the blade against his cheek, cutting open previously flawless skin with a blade that guarantees a scar. "Now, let's try this again. Have you ever killed anyone?" Stiles asked as he circled the chair dragging the blunt end of the knife against the wolf in a silent threat. 

When the silence stretched on too long, Stiles stabbed the knife in his hand into the shoulder of the captive wolf, causing another scream to be released. "Alright! Okay, I haven't killed anyone, you crazy fucking hunters." 

Peter stalked forward like the predator he is, towards the wolf bending so they could look eye-to-eye, as he let his eyes shine blue for just the briefest of moments snarling, "Liar!" Which showed off his fangs that had lengthened in his fury. 

That one word from Peter caused Stiles to set down the knife he had been using, and picking up a pair of pliers from the tray of instruments that was set close enough to the wolf for him to see the many options there were to be used. The wolf's eyes widened the moment he saw Peter's eyes flash, signaling he was also a wolf. There would be no lying to these two, that much was certain. The responding flashing blue of the wolf's eyes answered Stiles’ question without uttering a single word.

Peter grinned, nothing but malice in his expression as he said,"Well that was a yes.". As he continued on back to his original spot on the wall as Stiles moved forward to take Peter's place in front of their captive, pliers still in hand. 

"How many deaths have you helped to cause? I do so wonder." Peter all but cackled in the background as a single fingernail was removed every minute a satisfactory answer wasn't provided. Even as he satisfied one of Stiles' curiosities. It would appear that a wolf's nails do not immediately grow back, it would seem it takes some time. 

The answers remained unsatisfactory, at least until number eight. "I took part in four, was around for seven deaths."

"Oh ho, you got the truth that time, oh Alpha mine.", Peter smiled wickedly.

Stiles nodded with a simple, "Good," as he moved on to his next weapon and question; ignoring the questioning and confused gaze the wolf was throwing his way. Next instead of nails Stiles would be taking the fingers. "Were all the deaths in self defense or defense of your pack?" 

The wolf's eyes darted back and forth between Peter and Stiles still unsure of the dynamic, after all they couldn't be hunters. Not with a wolf and the wolf had called the human Alpha, they were pack. It made no sense. His silence lasted long enough for Stiles to start pressing in against the first finger before yelling out, "Yes, yes they were!"

Maybe he thought because his heart rate was already crazy and his scent was all over the place he would get away with it, but it didn't really matter what the wolf thought. He was wrong. As was proven the moment Stiles turned to Peter, to see a shake of his head, a finger hit the floor. "Argh! Alright! Two were in self defense that I took part in and three of the ones I was around for were to protect my pack." 

Peter sneered at the enemy wolf in disdain. "If you commit the crime at least own up to them instead of hiding behind lies like a coward. Who knows, your honesty may just earn you some mercy from my Alpha." The dark brown eyes of the wolf darted between his two captors searching for signs of deceit he couldn't find.

 

\--

Two days later, Derek and the rest of his pack found the car that Mr. Argent had given Stiles and Peter near the Canadian border with a note that said, "Nice try, but not even close asshole.".

Derek tore up the note before any of the others could see it, but they had pretty much guessed what it had to say to them. It was too late to rely on scent or tracks, and while Derek already knew where to go he refused to believe they went alone up against a pack of fifty in Texas. 

"Derek, we know where they went. Why can't we just go and get them back?", Jackson asked.

"Because The Burnland Alpha would take offense to all of us going into their territory at all, let alone to collect two wayward pack mates that have no doubt caused some serious trouble in the time they've been out there.", Derek replied.


	9. Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all leave a mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment let me know what you think. check out some of my other stories if you'd like.

Derek was furious. There was no other word for it. Right there, sitting in a box on his living room table was a severed finger - the middle finger to be exact - which he knew better than to think that fact was anything but completely purposeful. This was a message, and the message was ‘Fuck you, Hale. I can do this without you or your pack.’. It was insulting and impressive, but it made him worry. If they had sent him the middle finger, then what did they send to the Burnland Pack's Alpha? Because there was no doubt in Derek's mind that he had received a similar, if not more indepth message from the two renegades from the Hale territory.

Punching the already blown out brick wall, that had originally been meant to separate the living room and kitchen - but served no purpose now really, what with the hole large enough to fit an elephant through - Derek seethed silently as he did best. The rest of the pack stood around the box varying expressions of shock on each of their faces, except for Lydia and Allison. Both girls stood behind the Alpha, arms crossed over their chests, waiting for him to acknowledge their presence. "What?! What do you two want now, huh?" 

Lydia rolled her eyes while Allison stood a little straighter, moving more into the hunter mindframe that she had been taught."What we want Alpha Hale is a plan of attack. What is it that you intend to do about this, because actions such as these can not go unchecked?" 

With red eyes Derek slowly turned to face Allison who sounded just a little too much like her Aunt Kate just then, which even on a good day put Derek on edge, but now it made his skin crawl and his instincts run wild. "Do not speak to me like that, little hunter, it is not your place." 

Allison remained quiet with a raised brow as Lydia took over hassling their Alpha for answers. "Derek, we can't let this continue. Even if we claim that they have gone Omega we risk an all out war with the Burnland Pack, and we will lose. There is no question about that."

Scott was horrified by the visual evidence of things that his best friend had done, things that the boy had never thought his friend to be capable of doing. It would seem that he was very wrong about what Stiles would and would not do which caused a deep sadness to take root in the young wolf's heart. "Maybe Stiles wants that. Maybe he's punishing us for his dad's death." 

Isaac looked frightened by the idea, eyes darting from person-to-person looking for someone to dispute Scott's words, while Erica curled further into Boyd's grip. 

Surprisingly it was Boyd who spoke out, the usually silent wolf simply stated, "No matter how angry Stiles may be he would never do that. He is just showing us proof, that he doesn't need our help to get the revenge he seeks. He would never let the Burnland Pack punish us for his actions, and you all know it. We are the one's who failed him, not the other way around."

With Erica's face pressed into his chest to obscure her view Boyd walked from the room without so much as another word, the sound of the door closing the only sign that they had left the loft. Derek punched the wall again at the truth to his beta's words. Stiles would never let anyone else suffer because of his decisions, he would take full responsibility, which worried him almost as much as having a pack like Burnland after his little ragtag team of teenagers. 

That pack would tear Stiles apart, especially after what he'd just done by sending those boxes. Part of him really wanted to run after the teen and either drag him back home kicking and screaming, or join him in making those who had wronged his pack pay in the most brutal and bloody way. He couldn't though, he had to think of the rest of his pack, what would happen if he failed. They would be without an Alpha, a teacher, a protector against everything else that went bump in the night. He couldn't risk losing just for Stiles, no matter how much he wanted to.

 

\--

 

Peter had to hand it to the boy, he could be brutal. Sending the middle finger back to Beacon Hills while sending the head to the Burnland Alpha, now that took some guts. He loved this side of the boy, all hard edges and clipped words. It was a totally different version of the boy than he was used to, but it still managed to be completely Stiles. He still made jokes, used sarcasm, flailed about, but it was with a harsh edge of anger. 

They got the answers the boy was looking for after a while. Peter stopped keeping track after somewhere near the thirtieth hour. While that particular wolf had not been involved in the death of the Sheriff, he had killed innocent people; and Stiles was in no mood to dole out any form of mercy beyond beheading the poor bastard once he had all the information he was going to get from that wolf.

After killing the wolf, which Stiles refused to learn the name of he went off on his own for a few hours. He came back smelling of cheap whiskey, blood, and ink. The next day Peter saw the bandage covering where the scent of ink was coming from, no doubt a tattoo. Though Stiles refused to show the older wolf no matter how much he pushed. Eventually Peter let it go, after all it wasn't as if they weren't going to be spending most of their time together. He was patient enough to wait to catch a glimpse of the mystery mark, and eventually he would find out what it was. Now, however they had another wolf to find and trap.

 

No doubt they would be more careful now, but between Stiles and Peter, they never stood a chance at avoiding the trap.


	10. extra hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An extra set of hands?

They had been too self-involved those first few days after the death of their first Burnland wolf. They weren't careful enough and it cost them. The Burnland wolves weren't as stupid the second time around. They were prepared, which left Stiles chained to a chair facing Peter, who was shackled to a wire fence, electricity flowing enough to keep him from breaking free to aide his Alpha. Though neither Peter nor Stiles had any plans of begging for mercy, despite what the enemy wolves seemed to think.

The cuffs that held Stiles' hands behind his back would be useless the moment the wolves lost interest enough to leave them alone or with just one wolf instead of the four that were there. All it would take is a dislocated thumb, and he'd be able to slip a hand free and get Peter off the fence. All they had to do was wait. Or at least that's what Stiles thought, until he heard the door behind him burst open, and a wolfsbane smokebomb fall into the room; instantly making all the wolves cough and stumble about.

Stiles used the unexpected distraction to execute his original plan, which he succeeded in doing, before turning to see something he never would have guessed. Chris Argent armed to the teeth, knocking out the wolves that had just been holding both Peter and Stiles captive; not killing them as Stiles had assumed, once he'd caught sight of the hunter. No, just knocking them unconscious. Once all the wolves were down, Stiles held Peter's arm over his shoulder supporting his weight, as he quickly slipped his thumb back into joint.

Looking at the eldest remaining Argent with suspicion, even though he had just saved both Peter and himself; Stiles worried that the rest of the Beacon Hills Pack would be there soon as well."There's no one else coming Stiles, now why don't you set Peter down and help me tie up these wolves before they wake up, so you can get the answers to your questions." 

Not bothering to ask how the hunter knew all of that Stiles did as he was instructed, because it was better suited to his needs at the moment to simply tie up all of the wolves; before caving to his insatiable curiosity as to why Mr. Argent was there to save him and Peter, alone of all things. "I may not know why you are here Mr. Argent, but I do know I owe you a thank you for intervening when you did no matter the reasoning.”

The older man paused in shock for just the smallest of moments that - if somebody hadn't been looking for it - it would have been missed, but Stiles saw. "Call me Chris.”, was all that the man said, eyes not leaving their task of tying up the last of the wolves next to the teen, that he felt he both did and didn't know. 

Once they were done and the wolves were secure, Stiles immediately went to Peter who had been placed in the chair that Stiles had vacated. Kneeling before the wolf Stiles cradled Peter's face, forcing the man to meet his eyes. Getting a simple, "Good.", from Peter when he nodded his head at the silent question Stiles asked.

"I hope you are ready for what I am about to do; or you can walk away now and avoid any conflicts of morals." Stiles surprised the hunter with the option; he just gave the man the chance to leave without having to look back, a way out of the dirty work that was to come. 

Grasping hold of the young boy as he turns to gather the weapons the wolves had taken from him, which Chris had to admit was an impressive collection, Chris made the young man meet his blue eyes before saying, "I have been right behind you this whole time, helping to cover your - rather fine to begin with - trail, watching to make sure you were as safe as possible even with a wolf there to watch you. I know what you are going to do and I have no scruples against it, and if you wanted I would help you, but I know you want to do this on your own. So I will help where you allow me to."

The boy just nods once before looking at the grip Chris had on his arm purposefully for a moment before Chris took the hint and let the boy go. Watching silently as he dug out a small vial of wolfsbane placing the flower in Peter's hands before setting it ablaze letting Peter inhale the fumes, fixing the damage the smoke bomb had caused. 

When the Wolf's blue gaze looked up to meet the hunter's own set of blue eyes, there was a distrust and sort of possessive anger that Chris could see. He ignored the implications of that look, and turned his gaze back to the boy to see if he could be of any use in preparing these unlucky wolves for the torture that was to come, and god help any of them if one of these wolves was involved in the death of Stiles' father.

 

"Stay away from him, Argent, he doesn't need your kind of help.", Peter sneered.

The hunter's gaze snapped back to the wolf that was now on his feet, making his way toward the man who just saved the both of them, which he felt like reminding the wolf of. "Excuse me Hale, but I am the one who saved the both of you just a few minutes ago." 

The cackle that left the wolf in front of him, reminded him of the way the wolf was when his sister died by his hand. "You do realize that Stiles got himself out of that chair on his own, got me down on his own, and still helped you with a few of the wolves. And you think we needed your help? No, we were waiting for our opportunity to strike."

 

\--

 

"Dad?”, Allison said into her phone, “Hey, sorry I've been busy with Lydia and the rest of the Beacon Hills Pack. I know you don't want me involved, but ignoring my calls seems a little much don't you think? Anyway call me when you get this, we have a couple questions to ask you; and I do miss you, you know. Love you, bye."


	11. sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> having to share was never Peter's strong suit.

After they all had gotten out of that warehouse, everybody a little bloody, but Stiles the only one a little battered; all three of them went back to the safe house at Stiles' direction leaving a burning funeral pyre in their wake. Chris and Peter were holding up one of the wolves from inside, unconscious, he was just barely on the cusp of being a man. Eighteen and nothing more. 

He had answered Stiles' questions honestly, after having seen just what Stiles would do to get the truth, and was innocent of any crime. The boy had been sent to prove his loyalty to his pack, when all he wanted to do was protect his family and go to school. There was no reason to punish the boy, so Stiles said that they were to let him go. He would serve as their message to the Burnland Alpha. And word would spread of why he had been spared the fate of their packmates.

The two men threw the kid into the trunk, and then both men followed Stiles into the car. Peter took the seat in the back behind the driver, right next to Stiles but still right behind Argent. This made Chris snort, but he made no comment except to say that he wasn't a taxi service. They dropped the boy on a street corner, at the edge of town; before heading back to the safe house to no doubt do more research if Stiles had any say in the matter, which the wolf was loathe to deny him anything. The drive was silent but the breaths taken in, in necessity. Everyone reflecting on the events in the warehouse on their own.

Chris was shocked at just what the boy was capable of, he had always assumed despite his first suggestion always being to kill the threat, that he didn't have what it took to torture another living thing. He was wrong. Stiles was more than capable and while he was all business, his words were still all things that the boy would say. the only thing different was the tone he went into the moment he had begun. With a glance in the rearview mirror Chris saw something he never thought he'd see, Peter Hale cradling Stiles to his chest, as the boy cried for what he'd just done in the name of justice for his father. 

 

\--

While he wasn't regretful of the things he had done, he was regretful that he had to do these things. Just like he remembered his father saying: You do what is necessary, whether or not it hurts your heart to do them. In just a few minutes they arrived at their destination and the tears were gone. Back was the Stiles who was all harsh lines, and business as they all entered the safe house.

\--

 

As far as Peter was concerned Stiles was nothing more than an aggravating, no good, manipulative, little tease. And if there was one person you didn't want to toy with in their little ragtag group it was Peter Hale. Not that the younger Stilinski really had any survival instincts.

After all, he ran with wolves, hunters, banshees, emissaries, and the occasional additional supposedly mythical creature. It was truly a wonder he had survived this long, though his luck would soon be running out if he continued to torment an undead, narcissistic, sociopathic, creeperwolf - as Stiles liked to call him.

He always stuck his nose into everything that had nothing to do with him. Was always somehow the one to figure out the solution to the pack's problem, no matter what it is. Except for Peter's problem, because Stiles was Peter's problem. 

The worst part was Peter was almost certain, because with Stiles you could never be one hundred percent positive of anything - other than he will do anything to save those whom he considers to be his pack - that Stiles wasn't tempting him on purpose. He was just being himself, and that was - it appeared - more than enough to drive the eldest Hale to the edge of his control.

Watching the boy as he sat on the couch, reading over multiple bestiaries that he had managed to collect during the Beacon Hill's pack's little adventures, trying to find an answer to their latest problem. Read through pack hierarchy and rules, searching endlessly for loopholes. Ways for them to get around the traditional crap that had their hands tied behind their backs, because they may be willing to kill all of the Burnland Pack, but they didn't want to leave reason for any of the survivors - or other packs that will no doubt rise to take the Burnland's place - to go after Stiles, Peter, or now Chris. 

Peter's attention was drawn to the pen cap held between the boy's lips, and the way his free hand ran up and down his thigh, fingertips barely brushing the denim covered thigh all the way from knee-to-hip. Up and down in a constant rhythm, as the pen cap was suckled on, like a makeshift pacifier between two pink, wet, bitten lips.

Peter was so distracted by the sight before him, that it took him a moment to notice the scent of aroused male in the air. It was just Stiles, Argent, and himself trying to research this late into the night for answers they knew they wouldn't find. Immediately Peter looked to Stiles positive it had to be the boy, only to find him frustrated and exhausted, but not aroused. 

Slowly turning to look at the only other person in the room, Peter saw Chris Argent's eyes glued to the boy, file of paper's abandoned in his lap. An evil smirk spread across Peter's face as he made his way behind the hunter’s seat, bending to speak low in his ear, confident that his Alpha wasn't paying attention to either of them. "Just scrumptious isn't he? Such a. Good. Little. Boy."

It was worth it, to see the hardened patriarch to the oldest hunting families startle, and look shamed at the wolf's words, the stiffening of shoulders and the set to the man's jaw. "I don't know what you're talking about Hale." The cackle he received in response to the obvious lie, once again reminded Chris of when the man had killed his sister with his bare hands - hands that were now running across the boy's shoulders before diving into the muscle - causing the teen to let loose a moan so pornographic that it couldn't have been on purpose. All this happened as Peter watched Chris over the boys shoulder, eyes shining with silent laughter at the hunter. 

 

What Peter didn't expect was for Chris to get up from his seat and move closer to the boy.  
Running his fingers through the ever tousled soft brown hair, Chris looked down at the boy whose face was level with his pelvis saying, "Come on son, you should get some sleep. We can do this later, there is time." 

Peter wanted nothing more than to smack that hand that Stiles had been unconsciously nuzzling into away from his Alpha, but he couldn't and Argent knew it. Chris was leaving his scent on the boy in a way that was acceptable by normal terms, but to Peter it was uncalled for despite the teasing. After all they had just been captured by enemies, Stiles didn't smell like pack much anymore, and it made Peter's wolf prowl on edge waiting for a reason to lash out.

 

"You're right all this crapton of nonsense will still be here after a nap." He stood patting the hand from Chris, which was still touching him on his head; and squeezing the wrist of one of Peter's hands that had been on his shoulders, before heading off to one of the bedrooms to pass out for a few hours. Peter's wolf calmed a bit at the touch to his wrist not feeling quite as on edge, leaving him calm enough to once again take his seat; gathering up all the information, before joining the young man in sleep, though in a different room sadly.

 

\--

 

Chris was the first to wake at the sound: a scream. He ran towards the room Stiles had claimed as his own, only to find the boy thrashing about in his sleep, screaming at the top of his lungs. Without a thought he jumped into the bed, grabbing hold of the boy to try and prevent him from causing himself any harm, hushing the poor boy whose nightmares plagued him.

 

"Daddy? I'm sorry, Daddy. Please come back.", he whimpered. At this point Peter was standing in the doorway looking in at the scene, having heard everything and feeling nothing but rage and loss; which Chris could see clearly on his face for the first time, instead of the usual indifferent- yet somehow still smug - mask he had always worn in the hunter's presence.

 

As the wolf moved forward into the room - with that look that said there would be pain and suffering - Chris' hold on the half-asleep boy tightened in fear that he wasn't ashamed to admit to feeling. Which seemed to only aggravate the wolf further, as he slowly crawled towards Stiles. Scooting up close to the boy's back, one hand petting through his hair, the other rubbing soothing circles along the boy's arm.   
Murmuring softly, "I know, little one. I know he'd want to be here too, but we are making them pay. They will regret what they did to him, to you.". Eyes locked on Chris with every word, as the boy relaxed into the wolf, crying silent tears now that would make any man with a heart want to kill whatever made such a thing to happen. 

He could see the wary look in the wolf's blue eyes at having to share his Alpha, but with the boy's grip on Chis he really had no choice for the moment; but it was clear who knew how to calm the boy, who had been there first, and it wasn't the hunter. No matter how he wished it was. So he let his eyes drop in submission to the wolf, and loosened his hold on the boy though he didn't relinquish it.


	12. spiraling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not too sure what do do with this right now. have some kidney stones so I am not really doing too well. let me know some suggestions if you have any. or check out wicked games my other story.

Peter was surprised by the hunter's genuine submission, but knew that Stiles needed Chris too. Despite how his wolf howled to be the one and only person for Stiles, the man in him knew that the sleeping hunter was necessary, a man whose grip was still tight even in sleep on the boy between them. 

Almost as if he held on tightly enough, he could protect Stiles from the evils of the world, that had already touched the teenager's life too much. "If only it were that easy", the wolf whispered into the night; still keyed up from the torture session from earlier in the evening, and the panicked awakening not long ago. It was sad, that it had become routine for the young man to awaken at least once each night screaming, and begging for his father - who would never be there for him again.

 

\--

 

Derek looked to his pack, who had gathered at his loft as they always had before, when there were supernatural oddities hanging around their fair town of Beacon Hills. The only difference this time is there was no Stiles, no Peter, and surprisingly no Chris Argent. 

 

Allison was the most shocked by the last one, but in a lot of ways looking back she should have seen it coming. And just like Stiles and Peter, there was no tracking the hunter, which they knew but tried to do anyway. They made it around Beacon Hills into one large spiral ending at the Beacon Hill's Sheriff's department. The message was not lost on any of the people in this room. They were out for blood, revenge, and nothing was going to stop them. The three of them now.

 

Derek kept on losing people, and they were stupid enough to think that they were going to win this fight. They wouldn't - it was impossible as far as Derek was concerned - but just the fact that those three who abandoned their pack, their family, for their own personal needs; made some of the others question his leadership. That couldn't happen at a time like this, where there were enemies knocking on their door. His beta's couldn't try and test his limits now, when there was a rogue Skin-Walker running around in HIS territory; as if he wouldn't retaliate to its’ presence.

His betas kept trying to tell him retaliation wasn't necessary; but look at what happened the last time they thought that retaliation wasn't necessary. Stiles' father was killed in the crossfire, and they lost three pack mates to a hopeless mission at the same time. Retaliation was necessary, it was imperative in fact. 

Nothing was more important than making sure this Skin-Walker was sent out of his territory, with enough force to warn off any other preternatural elements that may think him a weak Alpha, unable to hold his territory and betas in check. Derek looked down at Isaac, who was cowering after he had just tried to question his authority on the matter. His eyes Alpha red, fangs extended and dripping, he looked almost feral as he growled out to show his Alpha strength to his wayward beta; and the others who might dare think to question him now, will expect harsher treatment.

\--

 

Chris had been awake by the time Peter next woke; and both men spent a few minutes just staring the other down, coming to some sort of standoff with understanding. What surprised them, was when Chris moved to get out of bed Stiles had punched the older man in the throat, before producing a blade - seemingly from nowhere - pressing it to his already injured neck; as he flipped them to be atop the man, knees holding his arms to his sides. 

Both men were shocked and remained still, looking at the boy who had only hours before been crying in their arms. Neither had thought the boy had this type of training, not clumsy little Stiles who always had bumps and scrapes after each fight.

"Stiles, look at me, it's Chris. Just look at me. I'm not going to hurt you, son. Now put down the knife." Peter was just watching, head cocked to the side - curious to see what would happen - of course he would stop it before Stiles seriously hurt the hunter, if it came down to it; but he wanted to know what his boy would do. Chris waited - not moving - to see if the boy would recognize him. Or if he was too far gone in his own mind to recognize friend or foe, seeing only the foes in his mind; leaving his body trying to protect itself from nonexistent enemies. It happened to a lot of hunters at some point, himself included.

 

\--

 

Stiles could see the man below him - he looked familiar -but he couldn't think of why he would be in the same bed with him, unless he was trying to catch him off guard in his sleep; which was a big mistake on this man's part. He was always ready for them now that his father was gone, his security was gone along with his dad. 

Now he had to protect himself, and his pack. Pack. That's what this man was, the boy thought. He removed the knife, turning his head to see their other pack member watching closely, ready to jump in if needed. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking there guys. Didn't mean to go all kickass on you first thing in the morning."

Climbing off the both the man and bed, Stiles stretched and yawned as he walked back out towards their research in the living room; leaving both men to stare after him in both wonder and want. Arousal from both men pouring into the air at the display that Stiles had just shown, in being able to protect both himself and his pack at all times. "Well Argent would you look at that, bested by a teenage boy, whose best weapon we thought was sarcasm."


	13. tension

The research still told them very little, even in the light of day. But the two older men learned some very interesting things about this new Stiles that they were dealing with. They had seen small changes happening, little cracks that were spreading throughout the teenage boy, that they thought they knew. Obviously they were wrong, they never really knew the boy at all. They just knew what he had let them see. Now Stiles had two men sneaking glances at him; while he tried to find something useful, in this pile of paperwork and notes from the night before. His frustration was building with every stolen glance, every page that brought forth nothing of use to him. 

\--

 

Peter could smell the build up, and while he could have tried to calm the boy, he was curious as to what this new version of Stiles would do once he reached his breaking point; and figured now was as good a time as any to find out.

\--

 

Chris could see Stiles winding himself up tightly like a spring, slow and sure in his progress. He knew that Peter could smell it, but he also knew that Peter's curiosity would win out, and he would do nothing to try to stop it. Chris had to admit, that even he wanted to see what would happen; but he didn't know this Stiles, and he had only seen some of the things he was capable of. So setting his papers down Chris got up, and moved slowly towards Stiles, approaching him like one would a frightened animal, "Stiles, we are going to figure all this out, don't worry. It just might take a little time, that's all. Time."

 

Kicking over the living room table that had been holding the majority of the papers they had on the Burnland Pack, Stiles was on his feet standing toe-to-toe with the hunter, with a savage look in his eyes. "I want it done now! They don't deserve time - my father didn't get any time - neither should they!" 

 

\--

 

Peter looked on in a sort of amazement, that this boy could and would stand up to a hunter of Chris Argent's capabilities, and demand better results. "Well, kicking over the table and making a mess of the only information we have, on the Burnland Pack and their Alpha will certainly speed up the process. Bravo Stiles, good work. Your Daddy would be so proud of your detective skills."

 

Both heads snapped to look in his direction, and the moment the words left his mouth Peter wished he could take them back; and it wasn't often that he felt regret. He felt it after he was sane enough to realize he had killed his own niece, and now because he had just mocked a boy who had just lost his father, with a 'Daddy would be proud' piece of snark. 

It had come out without him having even thought about it. He supposed that was because Stiles' sense of humor usually meant he wasn't easily offended, but rather found the humor in whatever was said, no matter how crass. 

 

Not this time though. There was no laughter bouncing off the walls, no snorts of derisive amusement, only a silence so cold, that Peter had to fight the shiver that wanted to run down his spine.

 

In a lot of ways, the knock that echoed through the silence was a godsend for Peter. But he would think about that later, after they had dealt with the wolf knocking on their door. Peter looked back to the two men, and found that in the moment he had taken to glance at the door - in a sort of shocked thanks for the distraction - they had armed themselves. 

Chris standing with a gun pointed at the door; while Stiles was holding one of his preferred weapons - a knife. Peter, being Peter, simply rolled his eyes at the two and walked to the door; opening it wide, so the person waiting on the other side would see the two people, just waiting to get a little violent.

They should have expected it really, after all they sent a wolf who had their scents, back to their pack. Their safe house couldn't stay safe after that, really. Though the knock wasn't how Peter thought these wolves would make their presence known. Looking at the wolf on the other side, gave Peter another thing to be surprised about. 

It was the kid they'd let go the night before, because he hadn't done anything wrong. "Please, please, don't hurt me."

Looking back to Stiles with a question in his eyes, eyebrow raised, Peter waited for any sort of signal from his Alpha as to what to do. "What do you want? I give you a chance to be free, and instead you followed the people you watched torture and murder fellow members of your pack. Are you asking to die or something kid?" 

The teen looked scared, but he still stood there looking at Stiles with both awe and fear. "I can't go back. I can't go back to that place, not after what you did. I'd never make it back out alive." 

After a nod from Stiles, Peter let the boy in closing and locking the door behind him, making sure to stay at the boy's back.

"I was convinced you were lying, when you said you'd let me go, but you weren't. You actually let me go.", the boy said.

 

"I don't hurt those who haven't hurt others.", Stiles stated.

 

\--

 

"What the fuck is wrong with all of you?! Are you trying to get us all killed, or are you all just that fucking STUPID?!" Everyone cringed and coward at the Alpha's booming voice, as they all stood around what was left of the body of the Skin-Walker, that had been in Beacon Hills. 

Derek paced back and forth before his betas feeling no sense of safety now that the Skin-Walker had been taken care of. No, he felt - if anything - more in danger. He looked at his pack and felt nothing; where he used to feel the need to protect and care for, he now felt the need to possess and control. 

Jackson stepped forward, ready to take the punishment for the pack, saying quietly so as not to further anger their Alpha, "We're sorry, Alpha."


	14. breackdown

The first wolf took fifty-six hours to break. 

Later, Stiles would learn his name had been Keith Burnland - one of eight cousins to the Alpha - Brendon Burnland. Keith had taken part in at least, half a dozen hostile pack takeovers, and five assassinations. He had deserved every minute he spent under Stiles' knife; this boy Stephen did not. 

He was an innocent caught in the crossfire, and Stiles had been merciful enough to let the boy go. Only the boy didn't stay gone. He came back after proving to himself that Stiles hadn't been lying, about not wanting or needing to hurt him, that he really was free to go.

 

"Keith was a monster, he deserved what you did to him. A lot of the Burnland Pack does; but some of them don't. I can help. I can tell you which ones are worth the torture you want to dish out, and which ones were just swallowed up by the larger pack, as Brendon killed off their Alphas." Stiles stood in front of the teen with Chris and Peter flanking him as he listened to what the boy had to say. 

"And why should we trust you? You're selling out your pack to a group of people you just hours ago, watched torture and kill members of said pack." Stiles glanced at Peter in a little silent warning to let him handle this; and based off the dropping of his eyes, and tilting of his chin to showcase his neck subtly, he got the message. "You want me to believe, that you want to help me to torture and murder, possibly the entire rest of your pack?" 

The teen cringed under the scrutiny but held firm in his words, "No, I want you to believe that I'm not the only one who is innocent in that pack, and I want to make sure the ones who deserve it pay." A glance at Peter got a single nod signaling the truth.

 

"You'd be willing to be our man inside? Get us the higher ranking pack members, where we want them, when we want them?" Chris asked in the same voice that Stiles remembered, from their confrontation at the hospital, when Peter had attacked Lydia. 

It was his authoritative, ‘I am in charge’, voice that had sent shivers down Stiles spine the first time he had heard it; and not the fearful type of shivers either, but the ones that meant heat and want. Not that he would tell that to the father of a child that was the same age as him, no he didn't need the embarrassment. Especially not with how great Mr. Argent had been to him since his arrival, after Stiles' and Peter's flee from Beacon Hills.

"Yes, I'll do whatever you need. As long as you spare the people who are innocent, or had no choice.", the boy pleaded.

 

\--

 

Dirt was gritty under their hands, as they dug what was no doubt going to be a shallow grave, for the remains of the Skin-Walker. A Skin-Walker who had begged and pleaded for their life; while Derek, Alpha commanded the wolves to assist, in the rending of flesh from bone. 

The pain and suffering that had been endured by the girl, who claimed to just be passing through; the beat of truth strong - while her heart was beating - but it was ignored by the Alpha. Instead Derek tore into the honest and innocent girl, while forcing his pack to follow his lead whether or not they wanted to.

Allison and Lydia were standing back with shovels; while Isaac cried silently as he moved what remained of the Skin-Walker, handling her oh so gently, despite the fact that she wouldn't and couldn't feel anything now. Boyd and Scott were digging the nameless grave, as Jackson laid by Lydia's feet, too beaten down to be of any help. He had taken the brunt of their Alpha's anger; and laying there on the cold, hard ground of the forest, Jackson thought of how much everything had changed since Stiles had left them.

Part of him wanted to blame the spastic little shit for it all, but knew that if he had been in the same situation he would have made the same choice; though he knew if Stiles could see what his absence along with Peter's, and Argent's, had caused he would be doing his best to make everything right again. 

He would be fixing it. 

Sadly though Stiles wasn't here, and - if Derek was to be believed - he was probably already dead by the Burnland Pack's hands. He didn't believe that though, he knew that between the three of those clever shitheads they would survive, and the Burnland Pack wouldn't know what hit them; they would be just as shocked as Derek, at their success in bringing them down.

 

He could only hope that once they were finished with their mission in Texas, that they returned to see what had become of Derek and the Hale Pack, and do whatever needed to be done to fix everything. 

"Don't worry, Jackson. Stiles will be back soon, and when he is all this shit will be taken care of with a harsh hand, and a tight leash. He wouldn't leave us forever, no matter how angry he was, that's just the way he is." Looking up at his mate, Jackson could hear the truth to her words and hoped with all his might that it wasn't just truth because she believed it to be true, but truth because that is what was going to happen.

\--

"Hurry up! Just bury the damn thing so we can all go home." Derek called out from his Camaro, watching his pack clean up a mess that never would have happened if Stiles were here; Derek knew that much was true, but he made a note to have a little talk with Lydia soon on her behavior.


	15. tools

The boy - Stephen - had information on the Burnland pack members, that the trio hunting them could only dream of getting on their own, no matter how smart they were. The kid had been careful, and observant during the time he and his family were forced to bare the name of Burnland. His pack had been absorbed by the Burnland pack over a year prior; and they had been breaking down each and every member, making formerly harmless and violence-free wolves, into terrorizing pieces of nightmarish capacity evil.

 

He knew names, positions in the original Burnland pack, and routines. One day he would make the perfect tracker; at least he would get the chance, if Stiles and his pack of two were successful. Though Stiles was hesitant to put the boy in further danger by using him; until both Peter and Chris convinced him that the boy was in the same amount of danger, whether or not he helped them or not, because that was just the way the Burnland Pack worked. So Stiles caved, after all if it had Peter and Chris agreeing to the same thing, then it must be all but undeniably true.

They recorded all the information that Stephen could give them, with Peter's stamp of approval on the honesty department, though they were all still wary of a new person among their trio. Lists of names, both innocent and guilty, locations of hideouts and safe houses beyond the pack's home grouping, and times that the top members came together in meetings were laid out in paper to be reviewed later. They had to send off the boy with wounds regrettably; or there would be too many questions as to how, and why this one single teenage boy - who had been on his very first mission - had survived the slaughter of his pack mates.

Stiles really hated it, but acknowledged that it was a necessary evil to make everything look real; for them to really begin to take apart the Burnland pack. Then both Peter and Chris once again came together on a decision: That Stiles didn't need to take part in that, that he didn't have to lay a hand on the boy, that they would take care of everything. 

Stiles replied to their kind soft words and worried glances with an emotionless yet final, "No. I will never ask of my pack, something that I would never do myself."

Stiles would never forget the screams and begging for the pain to stop, as all three of them gave the boy battle scars that looked authentic to take home. He would hear those screams louder than the ones he wanted to hear, louder than the ones from men that deserved the pain he caused them; though Peter did his best to take at least some of Stephen's pain he couldn't take it all. Chris hot-wired a nondescript car, and filled it with the scent of lemony fresh cleaner to cover their scents, and they dropped the courageous teen a few blocks away from his pack's home grouping.

\--

It was silent on the way back to their safe house, now that the whimpers and groans of pain were gone; though each man watched closely as this cold and closed off Stiles started to crack. By the time they reached the safe house there was a subtle shaking to his hands, then his eyes started to water, then his breathing started getting ragged; which is when Peter gathered the boy into his arms sitting down onto the couch, and with a worried tone tried to calm him. "Breathe Stiles. Breathe with me: in one, two, out three, four. Just breathe, everything is alright."

 

"No!" the boy screamed, startling both men as he wrenched himself away from Peter's grasp. "I just tortured an innocent teenage boy. He will wear some of those scars for the rest of his life because of us. And you're telling me everything is going to be alright. Nothing will ever be alright again, not with my father dead and buried. Not with me needing to use all the tools he's taught me." 

Both men looked to each other at that, they had been curious as to Stiles skills set, but unwilling to pry during such a delicate time. Chris sat in front of them on the coffee table, looking into those whiskey brown eyes placing his hands softly on his knees before asking, "What tools Stiles? What tools are you talking about?"

"The things he taught me to survive the world, the things I would need to keep myself safe.", Stiles looked up into those icy blue eyes, that somehow held a world's worth of warmth, with wide innocently glazed over brown eyes; and it was almost as if he was in a childlike state. "He wanted me safe, so he made me practice. Every day I had to practice for when he would be gone. And now he's gone." 

\--

Chris shushed the boy, caressing his cheek with the back of a hand, as Peter looked on in a shocked sort of horror as to what he was hearing; it sounded so much like what hunters did to their children. They taught them to protect themselves from everything, but the Stilinski's weren't hunters, they were just normal people. Beyond being Sheriff, there was nothing special about the man really. He was just special to Stiles, he was the boy's world after his mother passed on.

\--

Pulling the boy into a hug, Chris knew that they wouldn't be getting any answers out of the teen that night, he was too far deep to give any sort of sensible answer to their questions. "Shhh, shhh it's alright. I've got you now, you're safe with me.". 

The single word, whispered as the boy burrowed into Chris' shirt, made both men's breath catch in their throat, "Daddy?".

Argent looked to Hale and saw that the word had affected him too, before whispering back to the boy as he held eye contact with the wolf, "Yeah, son. I'll be your Daddy now. I'll keep you safe." Reaching out blindly for Peter, Stiles whispered another, “Daddy?”, shocking both the men.

 

\--

 

Jackson's heart stopped beating the minute he heard her scream. He was running through the remains of the Hale house, as fast as he could, to get to the basement - where all punishments were now taken care of. Unless, of course, the Alpha couldn't wait to get to the dungeons to dish out his displeasure. 

"No, no, no." He whined, he had been planning on convincing Derek to let him take Lydia's punishment himself. He knew how vicious their Alpha could be now, and with what she had said about Stiles just the night before, the punishment was going to be brutal to say the least.


	16. scars

They were once again sandwiching a teenage boy, allowing him the only sleep he seemed to be able to manage, which apparently required being surrounded by both wolf and hunter. Their presence seemed to be the only thing that calmed the boy, and silenced the screams and pleas for mercy that would never be answered. Some nights Stiles could swear he heard his father's screams, mixing with all the others and it drove him mad. 

 

Yes, he could be cold and ruthless, enough to hold a mask in place to torture those who so rightly deserved the punishment that Stiles' blade provided; but after it was done the boy was left hollow with only the echoing voices of those he'd had under his knife. For now though he was allowed some peace, at the hands of two men who so desperately wanted to help him regain the something, that had been cruelly stolen from him with the death of his father. Peace.

 

He cried tears of lost innocence, as he whispered to the men he had pleadingly asked to be his protectors; about the voices speaking to him, as he covered his ears with his hands, as if that could keep them quiet. "They keep screaming, and pleading. Asking me to stop. I can still hear them, all of them and they won't stop, they just get louder." Looking up at the men from where he had settled kneeling on the floor, hands still covering his ears, Stiles could see the worry in both men's eyes as he pleaded with tears rolling down his cheeks, "Please, daddy just make them stop. Just for a little while, and I promise I’ll be a good boy. I promise, just make it stop." 

\--

 

The men shared a glance before Peter grabbed hold of the boy, hauling him into his arms as one would a child; allowing the boy to cling to him, arms around neck and legs around waist, as he shushed the poor boy, "Hush little one, your daddy's will protect you as you sleep." Continuing down the hall not waiting for the hunter, instead just assuming that he would follow eventually. The wolf knew the hunter wouldn't leave their very own little red to the wolf alone, no matter the confusion he was suffering as to what he felt, for the boy and the wolf he was now pack with.

\--

Chris could still feel the ghost of Stiles' lips against his own like a brand, even as he made his way to the bedroom to join the boy and wolf, something he both couldn't and didn't want to take back. That was the problem, he should at the very least want to take back the kiss that had left him feeling something, the same something that he used to feel when he kissed Victoria. 

At most he should be putting some distance between himself and the teen; not cuddling up to him as he slept, but that meant leaving the poor boy solely to the hands of Peter, who he had no doubt would take advantage of the situation. Not because he was evil, though his morals were questionable at best, but rather because he knew the wolf wouldn't be able to help himself. 

He would take advantage of the situation because that was just the kind of person he was. The wolf wouldn't change for anyone, even if he wanted to, so Chris had needed to come to terms with the way one Peter Hale simply was and how he worked.

Adaptability was important to hunters, and he had been needing to utilize that tool a lot in the past few weeks; but it was his own choice to leave Beacon Hills, and his daughter, to help this boy get the vengeance he so desperately needed. 

Now here he was playing an even larger part than the man had intended, the whispered, 'Daddy?', kept echoing in his mind. He still felt the hot coil of pure want, that had shot through him at that moment. Having the boy he had watched take apart hardened wolves without so much as a flinch, clinging to his collar in desperation, looking up at him - eyes bleary with tears filled with question and fear - asking for the man to protect him. 

To be his daddy and make sure he was safe, but Peter was also the boy's daddy, apparently. Which both puzzled, and caused his need to comfort and protect flare up; because he couldn't trust Peter as far as he could throw the wolf. Just as he knew that Peter felt the same about him. So he slept lightly, one arm holding the boy close, the other with his hand under his pillow gripping his gun; almost waiting for the wolf to give him reason to strike, when so far he had done nothing but help to protect Stiles, and keep him as unburdened by the voices the boy had told them about earlier as he possibly could. 

Peter had had this look in his eyes,; a look of understanding, that made guilt for what his flesh and blood had done to the Hale family flare up, over the want he had felt for the boy just moments before. It was obvious that Peter had experience hearing the screams of others echo through his mind, those of his family, and those of the ones who had taken part in their death.

\--

 

Peter slept lightly just as the hunter on the other side of the bed also no doubt was. Only he was waiting for the inevitable, the wake from dreams of nothing but whatever haunted the teens deepest recesses of his mind. The fears he didn't even know he had, coming to the surface long enough to cause the boy to awaken, fear filled and searching for his father who had apparently been the thing that had kept the teen so strong and sure in life; even when that life had turned into a horror movie gone bad. Now he could fake a tough exterior when needed, but inside the boy was shattered and wanting nothing more than the feeling that his father so easily gave to him.

\--

 

Scott couldn't believe what Derek had done to Lydia. 

She would always bare his scar on her skin now. He feared for Allison, who was just as human as Jackson's mate. He missed Stiles, he would know what to do. He wouldn't have let things get this far, but Stiles wasn't here and none of them knew what to do to stop Derek. They all just wished for Stiles, even though they knew their prayers would go unanswered, especially with how they had treated him. What they had cost Stiles with their inexperience.


	17. touch starved

The boy looked longingly at both the men, but he had no words for what it was he wanted. The want that he felt so deeply into his bones.

Peter saw the small twitches, like aborted movements to reach out. for either Chris or himself. Wolves are always tactile, and for years Peter had been denied the closeness and comfort that pack brought through physical contact. Stiles looked and acted like a touch-starved wolf, so he reached out and ran his fingers gently through the downy soft hair, effectively petting the teen.

When Stiles leaned into the touch, rather than away, Peter made the decision to go one step further. Using the grip he already had on the boy's head to pull him into a kiss. Not a kiss like he had been given just the night before, but rather one full of tongue and teeth, of want and need.

Peter let out a groan of displeasure, when after one of the sweetest moans he had ever heard, he was yanked away from Stiles and his sinful lips, by one Chris Argent. "Watch it, Hale. You're crossing the line of what is and isn't appropriate. And that isn't appropriate.", Chris said as he grabbed Peter.

Peter just growled, shrugging off the hunters grasp, sneering at the other man saying, "You just wish you had the balls to take what you wanted from him too. So don't punish me for your cowardice." Reaching back out for the boy, who whined low in his throat, almost pleadingly to the wolf; but Argent was steadfast in his decision to keep the wolf away from the boy who was too wounded at the moment, to give proper consent in the hunter's opinion. 

It also didn't help that Peter had been right about him wanting to have just what the wolf had taken, to cause sweet little moans to escape like the one they had just heard.

 

\--

 

As the two men stood literally toe-to-toe, in what was a clash of wills to see who would break first, Stiles stood off to the side feeling even more lost than before. So he pushed his way between them, wrapping his arms around Chris' waist but, leaning his head back to rest on Peter's shoulder. 

Feeling content Stiles let out a sigh and a soft, "Thank you.". At the all but dumbfounded look that Chris was wearing, Peter normally would've made some snarky remark and left the man in the dark, but instead Peter knew now was not the time to hold information hostage. Not when it came to Stiles.

Running his hands all along Stiles' sides, up to his neck and chin, Peter smiled softly at the boy who was basking in the hold of his pack; before locking eyes with the hunter as he began to explain, "He's like a touch-starved wolf, he seeks comfort in the physical contact from his pack. With all the trauma he's suffered, with losing his father; and again every time he forces himself, to go to the place inside himself, that can cause all the damage we've seen him do. The death cracked his psyche, and everything else is causing that crack to spiderweb out.".

Brushing his nose along Stiles neck, breathing in the boys scent, as well as reveling in the shiver and whine he got in response. All the while keeping eye contact with the hunter as he continued, "Right now, he needs this, and us. If he doesn't get it, well you saw me when I had been denied the comfort of my pack, my nephew ripped my throat out."  
Chris tried to maintain a stern look and rigid stance, but hearing those words made worry settle into the pit of his stomach, he remembered Peter then. He had been uncontrollable, a thing of blind vengeance that didn't care if even the innocent were hurt anymore, in his quest for justice for his family. He didn't want that for Stiles; but he still felt as though they would be taking advantage of the boy to touch him now. 

He watched, standing perfectly still in the grip Stiles had around his waist, as Peter moved on from a simple brush of his nose, to kisses peppering the skin of the boys neck. When one hit a spot just behind his ear, Stiles moaned out another sinful little moan for the two men to cherish. Even without moving Chris was pressed firmly to Stiles, hip to hip.

So Chris could feel just how much Stiles was enjoying what Peter was doing to him, which caused the hunter to groan out in frustration and want. He could still feel Peter's eyes watching him smugly as he caved, and hesitantly reached out to lightly run his fingers along the neck, that was so perfectly bared to him in submission. 

He was startled enough to yank his hands back when a rough, "Please, Daddy, please.", was whispered. That was the permission he had been needing in order to feel as though he wasn't simply molesting a vulnerable boy, no matter how much he wanted to touch and be touched back by him. "Okay, son. Alright, I got ya."

 

\--

 

Lydia looked at her reflection, as she stood naked and dripping from the scalding hot shower she had just stepped out of, in front of the full length mirror. Her gaze focused on the jagged lines she now had, running up along her side. 

Black stitches standing out so drastically against her porcelain white skin. Just as the lines where what originally made her once perfect skin, imperfect and ugly in her eyes. These stitches merely added to what marred her skin. With tears in her eyes, Lydia ran a hand gently over the stitching that Dr. Deaton had oh so carefully placed, and felt nothing but fear of what was to come for this pack. 

"Stiles, we need you. He needs you.", she whispered.


	18. Chapter 18

Chris still felt some inner turmoil over the whole trusting Peter about this whole 'touch starved' thing, but it seemed sincere. For once his sesnses didn't tingle with bullshit at what came out of Peter's mouth. Trusting his instincts Chris simply nodded to the wolf wrapping one of his arms around the boy's waist pulling him in even closer. He used the other hand tp grip the back of Stiles' neck.

This boy had already gone through so much, looking into those dazed brown eyes Chris could remember seeing that same exact expression in the mirror every day after he lost his wife. Thinking about Stiles and Victoria in the same thought was awkward for the hunter, because he looked at this boy and wanted everything he could get from him. Everything the boy was willing to give and more, he didn't think he would ever feel satisfied when it came to Stiles.

Casting his gaze towards Peter whose eyes were watching the hunter with keen interest even as he continued his assault on Stiles available leaned forward eyes still locked with the wolf, pressing a soft kiss to Stiles' forehead. When that got him a hiccuped little moan as the boy's hazy eyes clenched shut almost as if in pain. Chris continued with a harder kiss to the boy's cheek as Peter turned his kisses into open mouthed little licks and nips at Stiles' neck. The sounds coming out of the boy were positively sinful, after a few moments Chris noticed Peter had taken control of the boys hips guiding them into a rhythmic grind both forward into him and back no doubt into Peter.

It was that final whispered "Please," from Stiles that broke down the experienced hunter's final defenses and he immediately moved from kissing along Stiles' jaw to his oh so plush lips, which caused another one of those sweet little moans to burst straight from Stiles mouth and right into Chris' and it was like he had a piece of Stiles all to himself. In return Chris moaned out low, causing Peter to let out a breathless but still superior little chuckle that shocked Chris out of whatever trance he had been in. Pulling away from the very lips that had tempted him for longer than he cared to admit Chris glared at Peter who was beginning to speed up the grind of hips, pushing the boy's hardened cock right into Chirs' matching one. Which was another surprise for the older man, he hadn't realized he was hard until that moment when they ground together in a particularly hard thrust of hips.

"That's it Argent, that's more like it." Unable to stop himself anymore Chris snarled low in his throat as he started to grind back into Stiles, hips meeting hips in Peter's guided rhthym saying, "Oh, just shut the fuck up Hale." Diving back in to those oh so tempting lips Chris managed to only catch Stiles cheek because Peter being the paining the ass had tilted Stiles' head towards him instead of the hunter with and easy, "You shouldn't get to have all the fun with these sweet little cock teasing lips. I've wanted to taste these for a long while now." Chris could understand that so he grudgingly took over where Peter had been leaving marks all along the boy's neck the otherwise silent room only interrupted by a softly spoken, "Yes, please, yes." that came from the boy between them only encouraging the wolf further and ensuring to the hunter that he really did want everything that was happening to him.

Peter had been more than patient when it came to wiring for Stiles and his honey sweet lips. Hell, he had even let the hunter taste their sweetness first, while he settled for the salted tang of the boy's skin. Which was just as satisfying honestly to the wolf, to finally be able to leave his mark on the creamy dotted flesh of Stiles' neck. He settled for not feeling the boy's hardness pressed so closely against his in order to have control over the speed and rhthym along with having that fine ass all to himself to grind his cock into as some sort of preview for what was to come. Because there was no way this was going to be enough for the boy, rubbing up against each other liker dogs in heat too taken by the need to actually get out of their clothes and get to the main event. Peter would just have to settle this time around, not that this wasn't enjoyable because it was oh so good, as Peter kissed Stiles plunging his tongue into his mouth in a mimicked movement of what he'd like to be doing with his cock.

The addictive little whines and attempts to grind back and forth to his own pace that came from Stiles did nothing but bring the wolf further to the surface as he felt his fangs lengthen only to have the boy lick and suck at one as if he wanted something more in his mouth which the though of the boy on his knees for him or hell even Chris brought out a growl so purely animal he could feel the hunter stiffen at the sound and try to pull Stiles from Peter's grip. Naturally he was unsuccessful as Peter locked his electric blue gaze on the man on the other side of Stiles. The man he had been kind enough to share the boy with wanted to take their boy and keep him all to himself, which was unacceptable. "Mine!" Peter ground out giving a particularly hard thrust where he had fit himself right into the crack of Stiles' ass through his jeans rubbing against the hole he so desperately wanted to fill.

"Get a grip Hale." Chris said still trying to pull Stiles free of the wolf's hold as he saw claws joint his eyes and fangs out on display in want of the boy between them. The both of them had been so focused on their little game of tug a war using Stiles that neither notice the speeding up of Stiles' breathing the hitch to it as he still ground back and forth into both men until a truly pornographic moan escaped him causing both men to stop and look at the blissed out expression on the boys face as his muscles gave out leaving the two of them to hold him up or let him fall. "Thank you." was whispered to both of them as he fell right off into unconsciousness.

"Hunters are coming to investigate, Derek."

"And I give a shit why?" He asked sitting in his chair like he was a king looking down on Allison as she spoke to him in a pleading tone. "They're investigating the dead skin walker, we could be in some serious trouble." Rolling his eyes Derek came back with, "If they give us any trouble we just get rid of them like that skin walker, it's not that hard a concept to grasp Argent. Now go do something useful and leave me be." Allison turned to leave happy to be excused without any form of violence taking place as was becoming customary in meetings with the Alpha now. Derek had changed so much since the loss of Stiles, he was like another person entirely. If you had asked her if she would fear a claw hand raking down her side in punishment for words she had spoken she would have laughed and said no, and yet there was Lydia whose body bore the scars of this new Derek's anger.

"Where are you all? Peter, Stiles, Dad. We need you here." was barely a whisper from the hunter's daughter and new matriarch to the Argent family line. Technically she should be in charge of what her father does but of course that's not the way things go. Though she had to admit she was surprised had actually left her all alone in Beacon Hills, then again nobody could have predicted the drastic change that Derek went through. He had probably thought she would be safe what with Scott and the others to help look after her and for her to look after them, now she felt useless and in danger at every moment.

Peter and Chris put Stiles to bed where the exhausted little thing snuggled into the comfort of the bed, they hadn't cleaned him up because it seemed a little too much like taking advantage seeing as he was now unconscious so they left the mess in the boy's pants for him to take care of when he woke up. That left both men still so very hard and wishing they had finished with Stiles and Chris looked longingly to the boy laying sprawled across the bed on his stomach for just a moment before Peter was kneeling between the boy's thighs moving to grind back into the boys ass just as he had been when they had been standing. "What the fuck do you think you're doing Peter?"

With a roll of his eyes Peter didn't even pause in his chase of his own orgasm at the ass of one Stiles Stilinski. "What does it look like I am doing Chris, I am pretending that there are no layers of clothing and that I was inside rather than not." Chris could understand the want to do just that, the need to finish what they had started but he couldn't do that when the boy was asleep as Peter seemed to have no issues with and instead of trying to argue a losing battle with the wolf he retreated to the bathroom to take care of his little problem himself to thoughts of the boy asleep in the other room.


	19. Boy Alpha

"SHUT UP!" was roared out visciously from their Alpha which made every wolf cower in submission and even the humans to flinch in fear of Derek's wrath. Letting out a growl Derek prowled along the length of the room looking down at his pack feeling nothing but contempt and longing. He hated how they feared him but needed them to follow his instructions without question. He longed for the way his pack worked when Stiles had been around, he had been the glue that held everyone together and now with him gone Derek wasn't sure how to take charge other than with brute force because that's what he's best at. Brute force.

Now he ruled over the pack with an iron fist of fear and as much as he wanted to he couldn't change any of it, without an anchor, a balance things would never get better they'd just get worse. Because without Stiles they had neither. He could feel himself slipping, he was doing things he never would have even considered before and there was no way to stop it. He was grasping at straws trying to keep control, but knew he was failing which did nothing but further frustrate the Alpha.

"Just do what I say!" The Betas wouldn't be able to resist the Alpha command to his voice, but there was a whisper there in the back of his head saying that the Alpha command shouldn't be necessary, that his pack should want to do whatever was best. What would protect everyone. Instead his Betas seem to want the opposite of what his instincts are screaming at him to do.

"I think it's well past time for us to test our sweet little Stiles' skill set, don't you think Argent?" Peter asked as they were planning their next attack. Which caused Stiles' attention to snap to the wolf, anger simmering just below the surface as he asked in turn, "Do you not trust me to be able to protect my pack, zombie wolf?" Of course that wasn't what Peter had meant at all, he was simply curious as to what Stiles did and did not know because so far he had surpassed every expectation, but this new Stiles was easier to anger in a way that the old one was just slightly irritated. It was quite the jarring change to be honest, and one that he had yet to adjust to if he was being honest.

"Ya Hale, don't you think our sweet little Stiles is capable of protecting us?" Chris asked smirk firmly in place at Peter's fumble in his words that caused the boy's temper to flare in offense to the question of his abilities. It wasn't often that Peter said the wrong thing but it seemed that this new version of Stiles caught the wolf off guard, which was a feat in and of itself because Peter always seemed to be prepared for anything and everything. At least where the hunter was concerned, that was. Peter glared right back at the hunter no doubt pissed that the hunter was mocking him using his own words against him, no matter that Chris was just as curious as to what other skills and tools that Stiles had hidden away.

The wolf growled as he moved towards the hunter who was mocking him. Nobody was allowed to mock him, least of all this man. But he was stopped by Stiles stepping into his path towards the hunter he had intended to teach a lesson in what was and wasn't allowed when it came to speaking to him. "Do you really need another show of dominance oh wolf of mine, was my not taking down our hunter in two moves not enough proof?" Dropping his Alpha's gaze while baring his neck in a plea for forgiveness in his careless words Peter said in a matter of fact tone, "I simply meant we should know your capabilities and limitations oh Alpha mine."

He didn't see the punch coming that hit him straight across the cheek or the knee to his solar plexus that stole his breath for just long enough for the boy to sweep kick his already unsteady feet right out from under him landing on his back before Stiles fell upon his knees bracketing Peter's arms with a wolfsbane infused knife from seemingly nowhere pressed daringly to his neck. "Does this answer your question then Hale?" Eyes wide in surprise glowing Beta blue at the smell of wolfsbane Peter pushed his neck up into the knife in a show of trust and submission gasping out a, "Alpha" that ended with a growl of approval.

"Looks like you've been bested there Hale." Chris said in both shock and approval as a curl of want spread through his belly at the show of dominance against not just another human but a wolf. Stiles stood after leaning down to nuzzle into the neck presented to him that bore a small cut that would heal human slow as proof of his dominance to the Beta wolf. "I wouldn't sound so superior there Argent, you've already been bested by me and it only took two moves."

At the look from the boy Alpha Chris bore his neck without hesitation with a lowered gaze to appease the boy. "Now that that is out of the way let's get back to the problem at hand and finish planning our next attack."

"Derek! The hunters have Boyd and Erica!" Jackson exclaimed after spending the last five minutes trying to get it through to the Alpha that he had important news. The roar of an Alpha on the edge of losing himself to the lure of the Alpha power, of a were that was more animal than man now echoed through the loft at the thought of his Betas at the mercy of hunters.


End file.
